Mother's Day

Miss Three tells me I’m only getting a Mother’s Day present if I’m nice to her.

It would seem my sticker chart system is being thrown back at me.

Just as well I don’t ‘do’ Mother’s Day presents. Like my mother, I prefer the non-materialistic things. In fact my ideal day would simply comprise a lie-in with a good book or magazine (I’m not one for breakfast in bed), followed by a leisurely morning with no rush to get out the door and perfectly-behaved children all day. Maybe even a countryside stroll thrown in there too and coming home to the smell of a roast cooking, the preparation of which I’ve had nothing to do with. Same with the washing up. Then, after I’ve put my perfectly-behaved angels to bed I’d settle down to watch Packed to the Rafters followed by Call the Midwife before falling into a deep eight-hour slumber. Sounds pretty realistic really doesn’t it?

But, alas, I already know this is not going to eventuate as, for starters, I’ll be spending the morning cleaning in preparation for our open home. By the time I twigged there was to be an open home on Mother’s Day the ad had already been booked and it was too late to cancel. But will people really be open homing tomorrow?

We’d had a fairly good turnout to the three we’d had so far but last weekend we were heading on a road trip to Waihi and packing for a holiday with kids is no easy task at the best of times. But to also leave the house in an open home state whilst being out the door by 8am? Nightmare.

As there was no point cleaning the night before because it would all be messed again, I frantically rushed around tidying the breakfast carnage, cleaning and ‘editing’.

By this I mean going round the house looking at it through a stranger’s eyes and putting away what I didn’t want them to see. Then I realised they would probably open bathroom drawers and kitchen cupboards so I couldn’t get away with hiding things in there either.

I was not having my finest moment and to top it off we returned to a note saying there’d been no one through.

So I’m not looking forward to the morning rush. Then, of course, there’s fitting in visits around childrens’ sleeps to both mothers. Not that I’m complaining about this – I’m thankful I have mothers, who now play such a significant role in our childrens’ lives, to visit.

By the time we return, it will be too late to put the roast on.

Never mind, maybe we can go for that walk in the country while the open home is taking place. And, of course, my children will be positively angelic all day. Oh and don’t forget if I’m nice to Miss Three she won’t hold out on my present. She tells me it’s the (now very crumpled) picture she drew for me last week which has been hiding under her pillow since. I purposefully avert my eyes as I make her bed every day so as not to spoil the surprise.

Apparently there’s something festering under Master Six’s bed for me too. He walked in after school on Wednesday holding a container which he announced held my Mother’s Day present inside. His nana whispered to me that she didn’t know what state it would be in by Sunday. I’m hoping it’s nothing like the hundreds of cicada shells he’s collected from the garden which now reside somewhere in his room in my good kitchen Tupperware container.

But although I’ll be sure to be holding my breath when opening that one I’d much rather these simple things than a shop-bought item as they are one of a kind. And if the kids insist on delivering breakfast in bed, then I’ll staple a smile on my face and ‘enjoy’ it because it’s these heart-felt gestures that count.