Awkwardly adulting

Local writer Kim Hawley is back to share her musings and this time it’s about reinventing Mother’s Day…

Let me bestow you with a quick backstory; post the birth of child number one, I soon became an autonomous parent (divorced) and with my own parents living abroad, my family unit was, let’s just say, diminutive. Mother’s Day was great though – I did what I wanted. End of. 

One, two, skip a few years later, I’m a mum-of-two and hitched to a wonderful man who I shall refer to as Rock* (not ‘The’… sadly) who also came with three bonus children of his own. 

My family of two became seven. My parents then un-emigrated. And chaos ensued. 

Mother’s Day henceforth became a confusing melee of who, what, when and how! My Mother’s Day clashing hideously with my mother’s Mother’s Day, Rocks mother’s Mother’s Day and my oven-ready children’s mother’s Mother’s Day. You with me?

The first couple of years were a blur – up to my eyes in nappies and Barney the (annoying) purple dinosaur. Years 2-4 I let slide – because I’m English and I don’t like to make a fuss – but then it happened! The camel’s back broke and the ‘straw’ came in the form of an orange cream.

Mother’s Day 2016. After the obligatory breakfast in bed, my mum called. Mum Snr asked me to pick up my great-aunt for lunch since she’d be on her own and was “on the way” to hers – it was actually 10 miles out! With this lunch already rescheduled three times to fit in a separate brunch with my MIL, I thought, why not?

Later that day my children bestowed me with a box of chocolates. Mysteriously unsheathed, it turned out I was not the only person in my blended (more like pureed!) family that liked the orange cream. Some sneaky little forker had helped themselves to the only chocolate I actually liked! And that was it. That did it! That was the straw! I carried out my civic duties; I picked up, I dropped off, I smiled, I waved….and at the end of that Sunday, I vowed never to do it again!

From that day, I dedicated myself 100% to the wonderful mums in my life – Mother’s Day was split between my mum and Rock’s mum and I insisted that it shouldn’t involve me. I didn’t give a fudge (remember it’s all about the orange cream!) and I declared that I would celebrate my own Mother’s Day. On any day I wish to, however I chose to. Perhaps shopping, a spa or a holiday. I need no breakfast, no presents, no attention whatsoever. In fact, the opposite of attention! All I need, my Mother’s Day wish, is to be left alone. Well alone. No planning, cleaning, tidying, cooking, counselling, prepping, smiling or waving. 

On one day, each year, I don’t want to be mum, mother, mummy or, as I have a teenager, an eye roll. 

For me to be a person. An autonomous one. For one day. Now where are those orange creams?”

*All names have been changed to protect identities and in case I write anything incriminating.