Mothering Sunday – not the American Mother’s Day, thank you very much – is a day of celebration, roast dinners, flowers and saccharine cards. It’s a time to come together as a family and give thanks to the most important woman in your life. Ah, if only it worked out that way.
Mothering Sunday has become much like Valentine’s. A day we all ask “Do we need a special day to be nice to someone?”. It’s epitomised by crappy cards bought at the last minute and littered with words so individual and special that thousands of mums across the country will be reading the exact same words over breakfast. If they’re lucky, you’ll have remembered to peel the 49p sticker off the back.
Granted, cards are a constant source of annoyance for me. Unless you’ve taken time to really find one to suit the recipient or written enough inside to make it meaningful, they’re just a waste of trees. We’ve all been guilty of buying something that runs along the lines of “Blah blah blah blah, great in every way, yada yada yada, on this your special day”. It’s utter drivel. Worse still, you may be tempted to buy a card designed to insult rather than appreciate: don’t be an arsehole. A heart-filled text is worth far more than pathetic mass-produced “poetry” or “funny” filth and we all (mums included) need to acknowledge that.
Then of course there’s the arbitrary gifts. I don’t know about you but if I find something my mother would like l buy it for her, regardless of the date. I try to be thoughtful towards the woman who gave me my life.
I resent being guilt-tripped into buying tat she doesn’t need just because I haven’t come across a gift she’d genuinely appreciate. Because let’s face it, buying for your mother is fricking hard. Christmas and her birthday are bad enough; no one needs another day of deciding how misogynistic a new iron is.
Despite my (somewhat miserly) moans, I have it easy. I have a genuinely incredible mother who I’m more than happy to treat and celebrate. Other’s don’t. Being a mother doesn’t miraculously make you a good person. For some, Mothering Sunday is a guilt-ridden, deeply uncomfortable holiday when society demands they spoil a person who’s never treated them as they should.
Then there are the countless people, like my mum, who are missing their own mothers.
Mothering Sunday 2017 is a bittersweet day for my family: my maternal grandmother died two years ago on March 26. Instead of celebration, it will be a time for my mum to mourn the person she loved most.
She will put on a brave face and accept the cards and gifts but my siblings and I are preparing for tears, not smiles. Honestly, she’d rather forget the whole thing.
To have one day a year where you thank a parent is pretty shit. Having a holiday where you’re guilted into thanking a bad parent is worse. Isn’t it time we consigned this increasingly commercialised day to the bin? No one’s mum needs another rhyme that reeks of indifference, nor a guilt-based gift that would have been so much better given more time and thought.
If you appreciate what your mum does, then do something about it, not because you’re expected to but because you’re not a bad person. I can guarantee a good mother thinks of you every day of the year: isn’t it time you returned the favour?
Jo Davey
The post Mothering Sunday: Celebrating Indifference, Guilt and Grief the World Over appeared first on Felix Magazine.
No comments:
Post a Comment