Thursday, 27 March 2014

Mothering Sunday

That's what it used to be called. It was the day when the servant girls got time off to go home to see their mothers. Now it has turned into a Retail Fest where the shops take money from our hot little hands from guilt. Move over, Valentine's Day, Easter Chocolate Bunnies and even wretched expensive Christmas. Why did such lovely festivals turn into such a travesty?
The trouble is that I can remember my mother being cross with us when we fussed and I didn't get it. Now that I am a mother I am angry at the shops and those who sell us this day as being the one day in the year when we regard our mothers as special.
My mother and I'm sure yours was always dear to me and I see now why she thought it was such a bad idea. None of my friends likes it. We want our children to know that we are aware they love us without flowers and chocolates. I adore my daughter and I know how much she loves me but even so, even though she is stressed in her life and at work and only gets one day off she was ready to belt up the M1 for the sake of a few hours with me. Perhaps these things are unexplainable. We have Guy Fawkes and Treat or Treat and even Baby Showers, and Stag and Hen does which last four days and cost a fortune and the Prom at school. Dear God. Let's blame America, they get blamed for most other things.
Here I must confess an interest. My book is promoted in Asda this week as a Mother's Day special priced at £2. Perhaps it's a case of if you can't beat them join them but I am going to drive my Fiat Panda, Pumphrey, down the M6 so that my daughter doesn't have to come to me and the money I spend on my journey will hopefully be paid for the books that sell on Mother's Day. Money makes the world go round or was that love?

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