Mother's Day

Is it only in the television programmes and films where the mum has a peaceful day filled with presents and well behaved, loving children? It's certainly not in my house.

The day began well with a lie in, of sorts, and a cup of tea in bed. Then the noise arrived and I was ambushed with boys fighting to be the first to cuddle me and give me their own card. I tried to be as equal in my thankfulness to each one of them as I could, but it became hard to be heard over the shouting that was going on from one side of the bed to the other. "I want to sit next to Mummy!" "No, I was there first!" I laughed at their funny ways and told them all to go and play.

Lunchtime arrived. Yesterday they had gone shopping to buy me a nice lunch. I expected a lovely roast....but was given a plateful of pizza. Obviously their tastes are rather different to mine.

After lunch the fighting began yet again. This time my 'laughing at their funny ways mood' had worn off. In a desperate attempt to make them think positively I sent Toby and Max to their bedrooms to write two lists:

1. Write down all the things you love about your brother.
2. Write down ideas that will help you to stop fighting.

They skipped off upstairs and I heard alot of sniggering and giggling. After ten minutes, Toby presented me with his list:

1. I love my brother because we usually like the same things, like the way we hate this stupid idea.

Hmmm. At least they were working together, even if it wasn't quite what I had in mind.

Toby leapt back up the stairs, two at a time, and it wasn't long before the crying began again. This time it was Max and Jonah. Seperating them into their own bedrooms, Jared attempted to referee the war.

Now, from my quiet, peaceful sofa, I can hear wailing and howling emanating from various rooms upstairs. I am trying to keep remembering all the good and rewarding things about being a mummy, but they are somehow being squashed out by all the shouting and arguing. Perhaps when I am old and grey, and a Grandma, I might look back and forget about these times. Maybe it won't even take that long - maybe when I have teenagers who sleep for half the morning and can be civil to each other, I might forget these times. I might remember Mother's Day as a perfect day full of sunshine, laughter and happiness. I'm not banking on it - I think these days of warfare will be marked on me like a brand stamped on a slave, burnt and sealed onto my memories with hot, painful wax.

On that delightful note, all that is left for me to say is Happy Mother's Day everyone!