Dear mum. I get it now.

March 6, 2016


Happy Mother’s Day, to anyone that is celebrating, or being celebrated, from breakfast in bed, to a hastily typed WhatsApp with a heart emoticon.

This is my second – my first year as a mum I was six weeks in, still so raw with emotion and trying to leave the house. But this year I get why my mum often reminded us to buy a card, or pick some snowdrops from the garden.

This is why I want to say a real sorry for The Great Mother’s Day Incident of 1995. I was 13, my brother was 10, and my dad should have known better. We forgot – in spectacular style. I recall making a card and (I’m cringing just writing this) going around the house trying to find items that my mum didn’t know about to put into a box and present to her. What was I thinking? Mums. Know. Everything. She predictably went apeshit, slamming the front door and taking the dog for a four-hour walk, leaving the three of us open-mouthed and truly baffled how we could begin to make amends.

This was back in the day when no shops were open AT ALL on a Sunday – apart from the local garden centre. Off we went, and bought a chocolate slab from the Thornton’s concession, and had the teenage shopworker shakily pipe the word ‘sorry’ on it. Yeah, it didn’t do the job.

So mum, I am sorry – before I was sorry for provoking that reaction, but now I get it, and I’m sorry for our thoughtlessness. We were inconsiderate, and missed the chance to show you just how much we appreciate you.

Cynics may say that these occasions are over-commercialised, that they’re a good way to sell cards and have lost all meaning – and we should be showing our love and appreciation all year. But isn’t being celebrated and thanked a lovely thing? And shouldn’t we want our mums to be delighted by a card, share photos of beautiful flowers with their friends, and feel proud that they raised children who value their feelings?

So while your mum might protest, or your husband be dismissive, or your kids need cajoling, let’s all make an effort. Take the opportunity to say something heartfelt, to make her feel special, and valued – it’s only now that I’m a mum myself that I understand just how much it means.

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