Mum, you star. You’re great. A health visitor once told me that if you feel like your about to really get cross with your kids, put them somewhere safe, go into the bathroom, shut the door and just have a breather.
I can remember my mum doing this, so I laid on the floor outside the bathroom door and screamed through the crack underneath the door non stop.
When I was 2, I used to walk along the road on my reigns smacking people just so I could then apologise after.
When I was 4, I got up much earlier than my parents and got the address book out from the computer desk draw (the same computer desk that I engraved holes all over with a biro) and phoned my Grandma. I told her that my mum was mean and I wanted to come live with her.
When I was 14, I ridiculed my sister for being too short for a ride at Hastings pier and my mum chased me round the crowds, ducking and diving trying to catch me whilst everybody looked on horrified. My auntie Amy, Polly and Amelia stared on in disbelief at a) my mums stamina b) how on earth she coped with such a mouthy brat.
At 15, my mum called my ICT teacher a wanker after he relentlessly picked on me and he didn’t give me any trouble after that.
At 16, I gave birth to my first with my mum by my side and she then cut his cord.
At 21, ma, you’re my best friend. I didn’t ever think I would ever turn round and say that, but you are. You have never turned your back on me and I can rely on you for anything – you’re amazing and I hope one day my children will feel the same way about me as I do about you.
Happy Mother’s Day to all those wonderful women here today and those who are no longer with us.
And also to me, one more year where I didn’t completely lose my shit, when I really really thought at times, I may have done.