March, a month busier and madder than any hare bringing with it an excessiveness of eggs on the run up to an early April Easter, more bunnies than Watership Down and an abundance of things to celebrate!

There are various silly and strange days to note and celebrate, but for now, let’s concentrate on Mothering Sunday.  A day in the run up where small children are forced to enter into various arts and crafts at school where matchstick women with enlarged heads, feet or shoes are proudly displayed onto cards or posters. 

School assemblies are laid on especially for all the Mums where they can see their little Johnny or Sasha’s handiwork with their Salvador Dali blobs of multicolour paint bringing a tear to each eye as their little angels sing out of tune to the Spice Girls Mama and tissues get passed around.

Children will bring home various painted and glitter covered loo rolls and empty eggboxes shaped in what is supposed to represent your face or for the more enthusiastic, a life-size model of their beloved parent.  This will be accepted with much gratitude, kisses and hugs and then placed out of sight for a long enough period before it is acceptable to rehouse in the recycling bin.

It is a day where the well-deserved lie in never goes to plan from the noise made whilst preparing and creating that surprise breakfast.  This is the fault of Dad who permanently suffers from cupboard and fridge blindness unable to find anything and with children in tow who have decided that slamming doors is much more fun than being quiet. 

The smoke alarm is set off from the toast which is now blacker than Mums mood on realising there will be no extra zzzs and that dream of a slap up full English is just that. 

This frenzied early morning activity is a regular feature in most households up and down the land resulting in bowls of soggy cornflakes as peace offerings which get spilt throughout the house and delivered to a pissed off Mum who has no choice but to get out of bed as the thought of slopping soggy cereal and milk all over the duvet is too much to bear and in the knowledge she will be cleaning it all up.

It is a day not to forget to book in advance for that celebratory lunch or dinner as all the restaurants seem to get crammed to the rafters where yet again we see menus dedicated to the cause with inflated prices to match.  It appears to be yet another date in the calendar year where it has become more competitive than commemorative and one easy to become distracted by the merriments of the marketing man to measure your motherly worth by. 

Did you get that huge bouquet of flowers stuffed with teddy bears saying you’re the best ever or is your one and only vase now being used to accommodate the wilting array of roses grabbed in haste from the forecourt of your local garage?

Did you get taken to an expensive restaurant plied with champagne only to be followed by a cheeky snooze on the sofa after tucking into that expensive box of chocs?  Or did he forget to book, and you ended up in your local pub, you having to drive and are still chewing on the remains of a Sunday roast well passed its serving up time?

The truth of the matter is we really shouldn’t have to wait until Mothering Sunday to buy flowers, teddies or chocolates or to surprise her with a breakfast in bed.  We shouldn’t wait until the one day of the year where we celebrate all the fabulous things our Mums have done for us and let’s face it without them, we wouldn’t be here!  We should make sure we show them 365 days a year by tidying rooms, washing up, picking up dirty clothes, the list is exhaustive and with your help it will prevent your Mum from being exhausted!

That way, those who can’t or won’t celebrate motherhood can avoid excessive pain and the rest of us can avoid the sense that we’re only good enough if half of the florist is on our doorstep on awaking on the 14th March.

Happy Mother's Day! - Hope you all enjoy your day!