“Mum, did you get me some bubble bath?
Pickle wakes me from a dead sleep.
“Erm, no babe, I forgot”. My usual skilful ability to successfully lie fails me at such an ungodly hour. I cringe and await the inevitable scream, as he stomps off back to his room.
“You promised, you’re a rubbish mum. I hate you.”
“Happy Mother’s Day”, the words float gently across the landing. I smile.
“Is it Mother’s Day?”, Gherkin crawls in bed next to me.
“Yes, it is.”
“Oh.” Gherkin rolls over, taking the majority of the duvet with him.
OH brings me an already much-needed brew in bed. Pickle decides to lie across me, horizontally, right on top of my distended bladder with an obstinate refusal to move. Instead he sings me a beautifully tuneful Mother’s Day song:
“I’m gonna kill you, I’m gonna kill you.” The sincerity of his words was very moving. I sleepily play the ‘bum drum’ in time to the beat.
Notwithstanding the ensuing trapped finger and weekly homework drama, the day has got better. I have since been ceremoniously presented with a beautiful handmade card, flowers and a ‘Super Mum’ wine glass from Pickle. My mum had tried to encourage him to buy me a ‘nice mug’, but apparently I “need wine glasses more”.
Gherkin has given me two books. Chosen by him because the “blurb was about kids n’ orphans n’ stuff” and he thought they were “my kind of read”. They do look interesting.
I’m now looking forward to an afternoon of football, washing and ironing…..oh and drinking plenty of rosé with my mum while Gherkin Ramsey lovingly cooks our dinner….
I will also spare several moments to think about Pickle’s birth mum today and silently thank her for the gift she has given me.
Happy Mothers’ Day, special ladies!