A Perfectly Imperfect Mother’s Day {The Ordinary Moments #10}

Mother's Day DSC_0091

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. We had a very low key day planned of just being together, at home, our little family. This was fortunate as due to school germs and a low immune system I have yet another virus that has knocked me off my feet with a bad chest, cough, earache, a lost voice and generally feeling a little bit rotten. I wanted to hibernate in bed, to not face the world and to just press the pause button on life for a moment, a day, just until I felt better. Yet there was a little hand on my back, a gentle kiss planted on my head and a whisper of “Happy Mothering Sunday” in my ear to wake me up. Another – not so gentle – hand to pull my hair and headbutt me leaning in for a kiss just like her big sister and that was it. Mother’s Day aswell as any other day has the responsibility of teaching little people how to live life. That your every move may teach them something about people, about life, about you and about them. So I dutifully opened my eyes to let in the sight. The sight of my two beautiful children. I opened my cards and presents lovingly chosen, written (and constantly narrated) by E who’s excitement about celebrating the sheer fact I am her mum was absolutely wonderful. There and then I did feel a huge sense of responsibility that I must enjoy this day, that I really wanted to enjoy this day over any other yet I didn’t fully know how I was going to do that.

I had plans and a half written post for today about motherhood and how Mother’s Day for me just gets better through the years. How I thought my first Mother’s Day was the best feeling ever, then as each year has gone by, each and every one I wonder how it got so much more fantastic. How being a Mummy can feel so intense and so absolutely wonderful in a moment that you think it cannot possibly feel better than this, yet it does. And I am only 5 years in! Realising this has made me appreciate each and every moment for what it is and drink it in but also not to feel sad about moments that pass because there is always something wonderful to come that you don’t even know yet. I absolutely still think this is true but would have felt a hypocrite posting just that.

I try to enjoy every day, there is for me always something good about being a mother in every single day, including the hard ones. Even if that doesn’t actually materialise until they are tucked up in bed and you have a moments peace. In among all the other mixed emotions there is always a positive moment to cling to. More often than not this comes when I think about the day, the moment with my children’s eyes.

I might remember this day as the day I felt awful and that in some of the photographs of the afternoon I can be seen blowing my nose in the background! My children however I know will remember the time that we went to feed the ducks on Mother’s Day, wrapped up in the bitter cold. The time R chased the geese not even an ounce of fear in her eyes and the fact that we nearly had to abandon E’s bike as it suddenly got surrounded by swans searching for food, followed swiftly by the tentative steps of a 6ft 3 Daddy trying to get it back without undergoing a swan attack. And the way that we giggled at him. The way that E ran up the steps among the flower beds so confident and R tried to follow but just not quite big enough to manage the steps. The joy on E’s face as she finds her feet with her bike, so pleased that she is finally getting her confidence and is really so proud of herself. These are the moments they will remember, and the ones I want to too.

I wouldn’t change being a mother for anything in the world, it has taught me so much about who I am, who I want to be and I hope that as my Little Ladies grow they can see that I did my best, and that I hope my best was good enough. This Mother’s Day all they wanted was to spend it with me and illness and all that is part and parcel of the immensely wonderful and sometimes daunting role we play, and are lucky to play, so I am more than happy to oblige.

I was treated to breakfast in bed, followed by a bath, we then went out for coffee before heading home for a lovely “afternoon tea” style lunch that E and Daddy made. Arranging lots of my favourite foods on cake stands (including macarons, an absolute dream!!) and serving tea in my beautiful Cath Kidston cups and saucers. I had a little nap whilst R did and then we ventured out into the cold to feed the ducks before coming home to a roast chicken and a snuggle on the sofa before bed.

I wasn’t able to fully participate in the day as I would have liked. I was sad not to be able to eat all the things that E had chosen for me. To have to explain why. To witness the innocence of a 5 year old and hear her say that she feels sorry for me. With no voice I couldn’t read her bedtime story or to be honest even get off the sofa to help with the bedtime routine. It was really important to me for E to know that it was enough, that despite the downs there was ups, that I still love being her Mummy and that we can celebrate any day, every day. I do hope that no matter how old they are, they always want to spend this day with me.

This Mother’s Day, tears were shed, cuddles were had, kinds words were spoken. It wasn’t a perfect day, it was my perfectly imperfect day.

xx

Linking with the lovely Katie over at Mummy Daddy Me for her “The Ordinary Moments”

Mother's Day DSC_0108

Mother's Day DSC_0085

Mother's Day DSC_0065

Mother's Day DSC_0051

Mother's Day DSC_0185

Mother's Day DSC_0233
Mother's Day DSC_0027 (2)

Mother's Day DSC_0242

 

4 thoughts on “A Perfectly Imperfect Mother’s Day {The Ordinary Moments #10}”

    • Thank you. It really is true isn’t it and I try to think of that every day and breed the positive – some days are easier than others!! x

      Reply
  1. Ah I hope you are feeling better now. It’s good to show your kids that you are human, you shouldn’t feel guilty for being ill. There’s no such thing as perfect anyway x

    Reply
    • Thank you, yes I am feeling much better now and I do think it is good for them to see we are human too. x

      Reply

Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.