There are worse starts to your day than having a small person grin up at you and say: “Happy Mother’s Day, my beautiful mummy!” – even if said little guy has spent much of the night with his bony elbows wedged between a couple of your ribs, periodically grumbling “make some room for me!” in a bid to expand his substantial territory further into your side of the bed.

This is my fourth Mother’s Day, but really the first one where Declan has gotten the concept… And boy, was he excited! After making me a ‘surprise’ present at preschool – which, being a few months shy of four years old, remained a secret for exactly ten seconds – he spent much of the week asking me if it was Sunday yet. The little love was busting to give me my gift, and he was so proud of his lovely little self.

So you can imagine his joy this morning at racing to get the present from its hiding place and handing it over. The look of expectation on his face as I read the beautiful card, apparently his own words….

… Then tearing the present away from me so he could, of course, open it himself. Inside, the secret present: “Mummy, it’s a jar. With a picture of me on it! Do you love it?”

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And love it I indeed do. It’s a jar for us to add in our love and happy memories.

It’s been a lovely, chilled day here. Back to bed to read for a while, then an awesome (definitely not every day, or I’d no longer fit through the door) breakfast of perfectly poached eggs, perched on top of hash browns, avocado, and crispy bacon from the local gourmet butchery. Serious indulgence of the breakfast variety, and topped off with a mug of ‘builder’s tea’ – the strong, milky tea of Steve’s Northern English heritage, to which I’ve become addicted – it was pretty much perfect. Kudos to the chef!

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The concept of Mother’s Day has always rankled with me a little; the commercialism, and the notion that appreciation should be doled out on one day of the year as determined by greeting card companies and the retail industry. You know, like Valentine’s Day. But seeing the joy it gave Decs this year was something else. I hope he keeps making me little treasures for many years to come, rather than nipping to Target for a pair of pyjamas or a cookbook.

I’m thinking a lot about my own little mum lately. My brother and I are so lucky to still have our mum; so many of my friends have lost theirs too early. She’s been through a lot over the years: she nursed our Dad through cancer, and when it claimed him, had to re-enter the workforce and take care of two grieving kids while dealing with her own raw grief. She found happiness again with our step-dad Peter, only to lose him – again to cancer – a few years ago after almost 18 years of marriage. It’s too much love to have to lose, and she’s such an incredibly strong woman. Though we’ve had our moments (what mother and daughter hasn’t), she’s an incredible mum, and my loudest and proudest cheerleader. I don’t tell her as often as I should that I’m so proud of her, but I am. Love you, Mum, and I’m so looking forward to our now traditional day out in the city at the Writers’ Festival in a couple of weeks!

So on that slightly teary note: Happy Mother’s Day to all the mums, grandmas, nanas, foster mums, adoptive mums, carers – all the women who put a large chunk of themselves aside to nurture their families. As those of you who’ve been there know, it’s a relentlessly demanding job, the pay sucks, and your employers can be downright unreasonable; but for mine, there’s nothing in the world so incredible as being my little person’s safe space.

So how do you celebrate the mothers and nurturers in your life?

xJen
seeding the wild