Why Mother’s Day Matters

imageI attempted to nip out to the shops this afternoon; except there was no nipping to be done. I queued at a blocked roundabout for around 10 minutes, and then queued for another 10 minutes trying to get into the Sainsbury’s car park, and then treated myself to a little more queuing at the till. It was absolutely bloody crazy, much more so than the usual Saturday afternoon madness. Why? Mother’s Day, obviously. I have never seen so many people with flowers in my life. This far eclipsed the scale of hurried men with cards and chocolates I’d noticed on a similar shopping trip on Valentine’s day. The world and his wife were out today to make sure mum feels special tomorrow.  Continue reading

Nag Your Mothers: Three Cheers for Mammograms!

imageI was a little reluctant to write this post just now seeing as a) it’s not Breast Cancer awareness week or similar b) I didn’t want to come across all patronising. However, with Mother’s Day approaching, I’m finding it hard to focus on the usual flowers and chocolate business this year and my mind keeps ticking over with thoughts about this year could have turned out so differently for my own mum.

My mum is 64 and generally keeps pretty fit and well. She lives alone, sorts herself out, and gets on with things. She’s a pretty glam grannie. We’ve no history of any major illness in the family or any cause for concern. She is, however, more than a little flaky when it comes to matters of her health. She’s old school, the sort of “it’ll be right in the morning” type whose primary concern with regards to all things medical appears to be not to bother the doctor.  Continue reading

M’s ‘Rubbish’ Painting: Major Mummy Lightbulb Moment

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Recently, I had something of a lightbulb parenting moment. As if there isn’t enough to feel guilty about, or worry about how you must be screwing up your kids, or not a good enough parent…..but this one has really stuck with me.

My husband and I were driving my daughter (hereafter referred to as ‘M’) to her dance class (late, obviously) when I absent-mindedly asked her whether she wanted to do some painting or colouring later this afternoon. Her reply: “No mummy. I don’t want to colour or paint anymore. I’m rubbish at colouring and painting”.

I was absolutely horrified by this. Continue reading