Mother’s Day

Two handmade cards were thrust at me over the table this morning, Ophelia’s with a new, developing sense of ownership as she proudly offered it to me, repeating, “Mine!”

Mother's day

I think Talitha might have thought that Mother’s Day was like birthdays or Christmas or something because she wanted to know who was coming over. She was disappointed when we said no one was but hearing the plans for church, lunch on the Bristol harbour side at Spokes and Stringer and a friend’s fifth birthday party later was instant redemption.

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In truth, our celebration began last weekend with a little shopping trip at Cabot Circus Shopping Centre who’d given Laurence and the girls a voucher to spend on me (they opted for craft supplies and candles – I think they might know me) while I had a hand treatment at Origins in House of Fraser. They then treated us to lunch at Pizza Express.

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Every Mother’s Day, I’m amazed by how life has changed and is changing. My girls are four and two now. I have another baby girl on the way. I live many, many miles away from my own mother. I now have a deeper understanding of what her mothering of me meant and continues to mean.

Fingers crossed this is the year I manage to avoid last-minute panic when friends’ Facebook updates remind me that it’s Mother’s Day over there. She might even get a card thrust at her over Skype, waved at the camera with shouts of, “Mine!”

In the meantime, to my mother, to my mother-in-law, to all the mothers who read this blog and to all women who choose to love, advocate for and nurture others in their lives, your mothering is worth celebrating.

mother • freelance writer • home educator • #revillagingpodcast • breastfeeding counsellor • no dig farm • Trini in Cornwall [she/her]

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