To all the single mothers….
In your dreams Mother’s Day with involve cherubic children bringing you bunches of flowers (ones that look artfully cottage-y and do not originate from a garage). They will also bring you breakfast in bed (and crucially will not have left the kitchen looking like it’s been ravaged by students post a pot smoking session).
But of course we know this level of perfection only happens in adverts and on other people’s Instagram.
Am I right?
And talking of not fitting into society’s idea of ‘perfection’ – this year I will be experiencing it as a single mother.
Which means we won’t be the ‘Kelloggs family’ that I grew up envisaging.
And that could make me feel crap. (It certainly did last year).
But now I choose not to see it that way.
Because actually there are benefits to single motherhood.
Yes, yes, I do miss sharing the load of homework and screen time policing and the shared pride of the kids’ achievements (who else is going to be as chuffed when they make the team or can finally spell appreciate).
But now, post split, the bond I have with the kids is even deeper. There is no friction over parenting styles. It’s a gentler, calmer household. Which suits me fine.
And I constantly need to remind myself that – just like nobody really looks like they do in the adverts (love that Cindy Crawford line of ‘I don’t wake up looking like Cindy Crawford’) nobody’s family lives are that straight forward. And there are those who want to be mothers but can’t, those who have lost their own mothers, or those who have a less than perfect relationship with them.
I’m loving the fact that some forward thinking companies have wised up to this and realised that marketing campaigns with blonde haired, butter wouldn’t melt kids and square jawed husbands have made people feel less than.
So I applaud Boden, who created a M(other’s) Day campaign to celebrate that special kind of gentle, giving love in whatever form the relationship takes.
I know this will be a tough time for so many, with the background hum of fear and anxiety offset with the fact we are all set to be cooped up with restless children for weeks (think I’d rather lick pavements quite frankly).
So I’m sending love to you all.
And if you lose it when they are eye rolling/tantrum throwing, or if you fail to do any crafting (rather lick Trump’s torso…), well, remember we are only human.
Just do your best. And I’ll try to too.
And then smile beatifically when you get those dyed blue supermarket roses