So recently it was Mothers day, right? Naturally, I have to write about it. I’m not going to get all Julius Malema on you and talk about my deemunds ez ay mutha, but I thought it might be interesting to swop notes on how all the mothers out there ekchewally spent their day.
I personally can’t whinge at all. I was spoilt. Not spoilt in an “all expenses trip to Tuscany with a 26 year old personal tour guide called Antonio who is there to grant your every wish” kind of spoilt. But spoilt all the same. The day started off great. I got: sushi for breakfast, homemade cards (oldest son Aaron, a.k.a Rainman of cars, signed his ‘love, the Stig’) and more smellies then is strictly necessary (if I were to actually use them all, I would quite possibly become radioactive... Shit, maybe I need them and it was, like, a HUGE hint ?!!?!?)
For most men, including Best-Kisser, mother’s day is kind of stressful. Although you’re not technically HIS mother, he kind of has to step up to the plate until the kids are old enough to step up to it on their own (little buggers better, when they’re older, dammit). For years Best-Kisser has come up with Mothers day suggestions like: lets all go to lunch, or let’s all go for a hike (weirdo) or, um… lets all go to lunch. A coupe of years ago I finally had to quietly admit to him (in retrospect, it might have been quite loudly) that although it’s called Mothers Day, no Mothering is necessary. In fact, the idea is more about (um, how to put this) getting away from “being a mother” for just one day. Like, a total sabbatical from your normal mumsy routine. I mean, we celebrate Christmas without Christ actually being there, in the room, for his own birthday and I think it works rather well. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Seinfeld was right; there’s really is no such thing as fun for the whole family.
Normally, I get a chunk of time out from the mayhem. But this year (only because the weather was so god-awful) I wasn’t in the mood to go outside and seek un-motherly happiness. It was fab. I pretended I was wallowing in good-motherliness all day. Apparently, along with all the other Capetonians, I’m not a very rain-fit mother. You’d think I would be. I mean it does come round every year. When it rains I normally get really excited about all the indoorsy possibilities – loads of gluhwein, a stack of DVD’s, a game of 30 seconds (ja, the excitement never ends) until I remember that I have actual children who don’t share my passion for those kinds of things (although knowing Oliver, he’d probably gladly knock back his share of gluhwein). So I’m finished my sushi, I’ve bathed and smellied and am now stuck inside with nothing to do. Kids are hovering dangerously. So what do I choose as a diversion? Why, to de-silicone and de-mould the shower of course! Yup, it’s all living the dream here folks. If it weren’t for the pieces of Lindt dark chocolate (elixir for all ills) that I sucked on periodically, I may have felt very sorry for myself.
But you know what, I felt extra stoked about my mothers day when I spoke to some other moms about theirs. Some really sucked. Like they actually neither did anything nor got anything (nice one; isn’t there a ‘Mothers day for Dummies’ we can hand to their sorry-arsed husbands?). The winner of the “How to get away on Mothers Day” award went to a woman who did a half-marathon. In the driving rain. In the howling wind. The lengths some mothers will go to for some alone time.
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