Mine was… very us.
Hockey at some ungodly hour of the morning, then home to squeeze an entire week’s worth of domestic chores into three hours, then a family Mothers Day get-together to celebrate all the mamas in the family.
I’m not going to lie.
By lunchtime I was tired, and feeling overworked and cranky. Why was nobody taking care of me and bringing me chocolate Hob Nobs? And then I had this conversation which I’m capturing here to help me remember another one of those magical moments of parenting:
Flea: Are you okay, Mum?
Me: I’m just a bit frustrated. It’s Mothers Day. But there’s all the laundry, then the dishwasher, and I need to sort the recycling, and…
Flea [taking me by the arm]: Sshh. Sshh now. It’s okay. Come with me. Come on.
[Flea guides me to the sofa, as if I am an elderly person she is helping to cross the road]
Flea: Now sit down here. Sit down. That’s it. Here’s a cushion. Here’s a blanket. Lie down a bit.
[2 minutes later]
Flea: I’ve made you a cup of coffee and a biscuit. Are you feeling better now?
Me: Yes, darling, thanks so much. I’m just a bit tired.
At this point (naturally) I congratulated myself on being such an amazing parent. Look at my little girl, stepping in to take over when I need a break. Bless.
Obviously, my warm, cosy smugness lasted all of two seconds. Right up until Flea grabbed the end of the blanket that was keeping my toes toasty and said,
Flea: Good. Please can you please move your legs a bit so I can sit down too?
So basically we watched telly and when we come home later, all the housework was still waiting for me.
Mothers Day. Magical, isn’t it? *tight little smile*