Worst. Mothers Day. Ever.

IRL
We totally fluffed it. Daniel and I put in a shocking performance for Mother's Day. You need to understand the lead up: Daniel was an absolute angel the day before, all of my Charlie's family came over, (sort of) Mother in law, (sort of) Brother in Law, his wife 'Aunty Doon' (June, as delivered by Daniel's cutespeak) and Charlie's darling granny, who I've adopted as my own. She's lovely and little and sweet, and has been nothing bar brilliant to me since I first started dating Charlie. Everyone's having a pretty good time, Charlie's chucking out great food at a rate of knots, and getting a bit stressed (She has performance anxiety, which is mildly amusing as she is a cracking cook and has the ability to organise me and our son, so how hard is a bit of lamb, beef, salad, veg, and 3 puddings? - I'm not going to go on about the food , OK, maybe a little. Charlie's cooking is awesome. OK, done!) and I'm on clear up, so we've spun the dishwasher up at least 4 times, I've washed every large pan we have about 3 times, hard work but fun. Then 'Just Dance' for Wii comes on, we all shake our thing, and have a chuckle. Daniel charms everyone, we wind down, everyone goes, super smashing great.

So that's the lead up, and so we expect good things for Sunday. I have a bottle of CK in2u (CK representatives, excuse my potentially wrong capitalisation etc) for the chief, and a nice card. Daniel's drawn spirals in the card by way of making his mark. Cue Sunday Morning.....

Wake to very loud crying. Daniel's got faceache (For those not familiar, this means he's woken in a very bad mood) and is being a bit of a bumhole. Charlie's unhappy, she was expecting breakfast in bed, flower in glass, lie in. Instead she gets screaming child, sinus-infection other half (me) now with faceache also (Due to screaming child and some poorly chosen words from Charlie) I then go downstairs, Charlie crying into tea 'she had to make herself -sob-' so I send her back to bed, make breakfast with Daniel (Which cheers her up as she can hear it all) I look after the boy, Charlie doesn't sleep. Daniel still bumholesque, but doped up on Thomas the Tank Engine and Brum (The makers of I should personally thank for services to parenthood) The rest of the day is better, but due to wrong start never fully recovers. I agree to surprise Charlie at a later date by dedicating a whole morning to her pampering in the style of Mother's Day.

I would like to say in my defense my take on Mothers Day is somewhat askew as my memories of it were Mum and Dad appeared at my boarding school and I would scowl at them for sending me there. That and not enjoying the irony of being a child visited at the place in charge of his care by his parents on a day dedicated to celebrating their effort to that end. After that, Dad would ring me to remind me to send a card. Yes, I was a brat, a vitriolic, angry, and ungrateful one too. I want to get over all that before I, like my hero Mr John Ravenscroft (AKA Peel), realise my parents are the good guys and I don't remind them I know this and how much I am grateful now I'm finally the adult they formed me into nearly often enough.

On the subject of John Peel. Reading the autobiography, just got the bit where Sheila (John's widow) tells of John's death. Couldn't read it on the train, didn't want to sob openly on a crowded commuter train, doesn't go down well). I worked at a newspaper at the time, and I cried when they announced it. Thanks for so much, and so much brilliant music.

So, to Charlie, and to my Mum. Thank you, you are, and have done, a great job. I love you both very much. (Soppy sod that I am)