As a daughter I look forward to Mother’s Day. I don’t need an excuse to spoil my mum but it’s always nice to treat her on such a special day; buy her a bottle of her favourite perfume, turn up with a bunch of flowers and take her out for lunch.
However, as a mum, flying solo, I really don’t look forward to the occasion. It always turns out to be just another day, with no special card or little present.
I’m sure it will improve with time but at the moment Master A is too young to go out on his own, shopping for his No.1 girl (that’s me by the way for at least the next couple of years, I hope). And with no-one to take him out to a card shop, no-one to remind him that it’s Mother’s Day it simply passes him, and, therefore, me by.
So this year I have decided to ignore Mother’s Day (not for my own mum, of course). When Sunday comes I won’t acknowledge it as anything other than a normal Sunday. I’ll be on the football sidelines, standing with the dads, cheering on Master A, watching in what’s probably going to be another drubbing (the team hasn’t won all season).
But, I’ll be happy, because I’ll be doing what I love most in the world, spending time with my son.
Besides, on Tuesday (March 21), I celebrated the little known National Single Parent Day. Officially designated back in 1984, this special day acknowledges the hard work of single parents around the world.
I found out about it from a friend who started celebrating it last year and decided that I would adopt the day and claim it as my own.
I bought myself a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, I cooked myself a beautiful piece of tuna, with samphire, and treated myself to a cute necklace from Kenzo that I’ve had my eye on for the past couple of months. And, yes, I patted myself on the back because I know I’m a great mum.
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