********Mother’s Day Post- pleaae skip on if you would rather not read.**********
So hear me out on this- would you be pleased if your Mother’s Day gift consisted of a soft toy and a box of Miniature Heroes? Because, and forgive me if I’m wrong, is this not a more appropriate present for a child? How many mums do you know who would appreciate the like of this? Who on earth would actually say: ‘That’s exactly what my life has been missing! A pastel pink boom box cuddly toy with blue hearts and teeny tiny legs!’ Readers, let me reassure you that I’m not in the grip of some menopause induced stupor, but I saw such an item in a well-known service station on the Saintfield Road.
Have you ever seen such a pile of crap?
There’s no accounting for taaste, but while I’ve no issue with chowing down a few Cadbury’s Dairy Milks, 
I’m wreacking my head to come up with a single person I know, who would want to add to the mountain of kid’s stuff they’ve already accumuated. And I’ll tell you this for nothing, I’d be bloody livid if I was handed this next Sunday. It’s unthinkable. ‘Hi Mum, as a big thank you for the trauma of having us plucked from your womb, here’s a floppy-eared elephant fron Sainsbury’s.’
Observe the dark circles under the eyes. I blame the decluttering.
Maybe I’m touchier than ususal on said matters because I’ve recently instigated a clear out, and quelle surprise, I’m the main one doing the clearing. Let’s be clear: I’m not trying to rob my offspring of all their worldly goods, but we’re being buried alive under all manner of shite and it’s destroying my happiness. So I took action, and lobbed a few soft toys into the machine and hung them out by their ears or arms in the winter sunshine. The Small Child, (or our very own Lord Sugar) got busy on Vinted, but it her Sour Wee Mother who packaged up two neon coloured sloths and a ‘Spring Bundle’ ( two lambs and a rabbit) for which we were offered a paltry sum.
Take them to Oxfam! I hear you cry, but very few charity shops actually accept teddies, so they mostly end up in landfill; the thought of which makes me go a bit funny.
What I’m saying therefore, is that toys are work. Anything, in fact that comes into your house, is work, that primarily the women have to deal with. Items have to stored, cleaned, and prised from the mouths of family pets with a strange proclivity for chewing off their eyes and noses.
I’m suggesting that mums deserve more than being gifted this sort of nonsense. So here’s a handy guide to what I think counts as a present:
Looking something thoughtful and sustainable? A charity shop may have the answer. Who wouldn’t appreciate a vase filled with hand-picked flowers a well-chosen book and maybe a bag of good coffee to go with it?
Feeling harried and put-upon? (Me- almost always) then a relaxing experience is what you need. Close to my heart in Belfast are Betty (Betty’s Place, on University Street) or Geraldine Boyd who operates out of her snug and perfect ‘cocoon’ in Rosetta. Both use their intuition to tap in to where you need it most. A reflexology session or massage are two gifts in one- time away from frenetic family life, plus the benefits of something restorative.
No time or funds for any of the above? Maybe then on Mother’s Day, mum has dinner made for her. And, I mean deciding on, shopping for, cooking and cleaning up after the meal: the full hog.
In our house we don’t go big on these occasions. Case in point, last June LSB spent Father’s Day screwing on a new Toilet seat he bought in Homebase. And on Mother’s Day 2020, I trailed him to a random house off the M2 and we ended up coming home with a greyhound. ‘It’s entirely my project,’ I told him. It didn’t work out like that though; in fact he’s out walking his project now. But it was unintentionally the best present ever. And beats a toy boom box anyday. She’d only try and eat it.
Final day when sun has appeared. Finally. Like, ‘here’s the holiday you could have won.
