I didn’t spend Mother’s Day with mum. I would have loved to, but I couldn’t get the time to take the trip north.
Instead, I packed up a little box of CDs and a small elephant I’d bought in Thailand and shipped it up to Mum’s in time for today.
She unwrapped it as we spoke on the phone and told me about the odd jobs she’d be doing in the afternoon.
I spent the day doing the same – cleaning out the oven, mopping the floors, Googling sugar-free recipes and laying low.
Friends were at family functions, treating their mums and tweeting the evidence. My Facebook feed was filled with photos of high tea and cake. Mums and daughters hugging. Love.
Mother’s Day is a lovely way to celebrate the selfless souls in our lives. The women who have given and continue to give us their love and endless encouragement and support.
Today I whispered a prayer and wrote a note to my dear friends who are without their mothers. I asked God to wrap angels’ wings around them, to comfort them and sing them a sweet song. Just like mum.
I can’t pretend to understand their loss, so I won’t write about it. Instead, I am writing this post to honour mums who have passed. I pray for their peace and for the children they left behind. Let their love forever linger.
Happy Mother’s Day to all.
Today is your day.
Today we celebrate how far you have come.
Today we know the struggles you made; the battles you won.
Today we see the struggles ahead; the battles you continue to fight around the world. The peaceful fights – the fight for rights.
Today we honour your integrity; your endless love. It stems from the home and seeps out into your community and wafts around the world.
Today we see your potential. To rise up and shout out for those who do not have a voice.
Today we applaud you for doing two thirds of the world’s work. While earning just 10 per cent of the world’s wages.
Today we thank you for providing us with a home, a haven, a safe house. For filling it with real riches – your heart and your spirit.
Today we recognise the barriers you confront – in the workforce, on the land, in the home.
Today we support you.
Today we stand with you; we walk with you; we hold hands and march forward with you.
Today is your day.
This post was written for International Women’s Day. To find out more about this ever-important initiative, please click here.
It’s timely that the day I emerge from three days in hell is also Thankful Thursday. I’ll spare you the icky details, though it did involve a lot of yacking and dragging my weary self to the shower and back. I didn’t even have the energy to hold a hairdryer. So as soon as my hair started to frizz up and feel feral, all I could do was chuck it under the cold tap. And then crawl back to bed, moaning and groaning and searching for The Bucket.
Valentine’s Day was cancelled. I didn’t think the fine folk at the tres posh Winery in Surry Hills would appreciate my half-dried curly mop and crinkled nightie, which hadn’t been taken off in two days. They probably wouldn’t like the gagging noises either…
So The Lad and I awoke on Valentine’s Day incredibly tired (the poor guy had been kept up all night as I took the ‘how loud can you spew’ challenge). He then put off a meeting at his new job to take me to the doctor’s and wait while I received a needle in my bum. And he didn’t even blink when I said dinner was cancelled. Instead, he brought me a single red rose and a peck on the cheek. What a man.
Now that I’m looking semi-decent (apologies to my colleagues who have been graced with my post-pukey, unpolished presence today), I am able to turn on my computer and be thankful.
I’m thankful for full health. Gastro is hardly the worst illness to have, yet it felt fairly close to death. I admire those courageous people who live with critical illness and disease every day of their lives.
I’m also incredibly thankful for having someone in my life who, after they’ve had zero sleep (thanks to me), will put off anything to make sure I’m OK.
I giggled in the shower last night. I couldn’t stop; I was laughing and sniggering and giggling my head off. I could hear my housemate knocking on the door and mocking me. Which made me laugh even harder. It was one of those rare moments of absolute euphoria. It was a release.
We had been out to see my friend perform in a dimly-lit Oxford Street singers’ bar. That’s singers, not swingers (just in case you were getting excited). I had only heard him sing in snippets – a few lines at most. To see him step onto the stage, smartly dressed in a tucked-in crisp white shirt and skinny black tie, and belt out the most beautiful, haunting notes, took my breath away. He had been nervous, awaiting his turn on the small stage. He had no reason to be. Daniel Merriweather’s Red and the Kings of Leon hit Use Somebody poured out in a slinky, soulful sound. My pocket-rocket pal is set for stardom. His name is Paul Graham. Keep an eye out for him.
After Paul’s performance, a group of us headed back out onto Oxford Street for drinks and dancing. Yes, on a school night. Eep. But it was fabulous – we were all on a high from seeing our uber-talented friend rock the Supper Club. We danced and giggled and showed off and sang. Which is how I wound up still giggling and sniggering in the shower at midnight!
Friends are a blessing. They get us out of our head and open our eyes. They lift our spirits. And best of all, they leave us laughing.