The Hour

Thousands of mothers up and down the country will be obliged to eat cold toast and milky tea in bed this Sunday.  They will have to exclaim enthusiastically about the over-glued concoction or cheap jewelled thing.

That’s because Mother’s Day has come round again. It’s the day when mums are supposed to be appreciated... or at the very least remembered, by their offspring.

Already whispered plans are being hatched in secret in this house. I’m trying very hard to pretend I haven’t noticed as their excitement builds.

It’s also the day when commercial organisations offer expensive things for us or propose over-priced set menus for the ‘special’ day. Equally, school staff, seeing a no-brainer craft experience opportunity, lay in stocks of glitter and roll their sleeves up.

Perhaps it’s understandable that this annual feast of saccharine sentimentality should leave some cynicism. After all we’re a very long way from those serving girls who took a bunch of daffs home to mother on their one day off. And children rarely buy or do anything that mum actually wants and their domestic efforts inevitably make a disproportionate amount of mess.

It’s especially easy to be sneery about Mother’s Day when we parents spend so much of the rest of the time moaning about how hard things are. It’s true. We’re all at it from the first whinge about the agony of giving birth and the exhaustion of the early months to the belly aching about the price of shoes and depleted social life. Go on, ask yourself – when was the last time you met someone and said: “My children are marvellous. I’m really proud of them.”

ELLEN SAID:
What was Rebecca Black’s mum thinking?
The embarrassment of toddlers
Has princess fever gone too far?

It’s more likely a bleat about what to do with the little so-and-sos during the Easter holiday and how awful their repeated demands for ice cream and entertainment are.

Perhaps a better use of Mother’s Day is to use the well-earned break from the laundry pile to celebrate what a blessing children are - how fortunate we are to have kids to whinge about at all.

Spend a minute to think about those who can’t have kids, or even those who have lost children.
I was set to thinking about this by a post from my lovely colleague Laura. Her leukaemia means she’s not sure if she’ll ever be able to have children... something that’s especially painful at this time of year.
And there are others, those who can’t conceive, who miscarry, whose children meet disease and accident.

I’m not suggesting going all po-faced on the subject, but children are blessings to be counted, hugged and then chased off to tidy up and wash their hands.

Happy Mother’s Day, enjoy your breakfast in bed.