How Not To Do Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day Success might be expressed by this probably extremely mathematically sound equation:

(Flowers + Hug) – (Being A Shit + The Memory Of Childbirth) x 1 Measly Day Of The Year = Chuffed Mum

Simple, when you put it that way (and go on, mathmo haters- comment on how shoddy that number sentence is. I haven’t done maths since I was 16, but I can think of all manner of ways to use a meter stick).

We could tell you where to get cheap flowers or brew a mind-blowing cup of tea or create an artisan card incorporating the milk teeth of all of your siblings. But why be nice when you can be a pessimistic doom-monger? Exactly. With this in mind, here are some hints on how not to balls it up.

Firstly, do not go out on the Saturday night, come home, and eat all of the bread in a fit of insatiable beery feasting. Do not wash down said loaf with milk which you drunkenly replace in the airing cupboard. This will smell, and ruin Mothering Breakfast.

Do not take off all of your clothes and have a naked nap on the landing. When your mother has to step over your stinking carcass on the way to her first Mothering Sunday wee, your mother will not want to be your mother anymore. She will not only feel angry, but also guilty for wanting to disown you. Don’t put her in such an emotional quandary.

Do not piss on the toilet seat. Do not piss in the sink. Mainly because this is grotty on any day of the year, let alone a Sunday, but also because it is not at all acceptable on a day devoted to the woman who spent precious years of her life teaching you how to urinate in a clean and streamlined manner.

Mothering Sunday is not the day on which to announce that you are in the advanced stages of pregnancy, that you have plans to emigrate, or any new-found vegetarian impulses. Your mum might be making a roast, and this would be inconsiderate.

Moreover, you should not make ‘your mum!’ based jokes, because they don’t really make sense, and they are offensive. Also, because it is Mothering Sunday, and not in the spirit of things.

Do not offer to do anything too nice or thoughtful; she will be disappointed when you don’t offer again on Not-Mothering-Monday, Normal-Tuesday, and Really-Grumpy-Wednesday.

Definitely do not purchase your mother a card featuring any of the following: the word ‘mummy’, the word ‘best’ and the word ‘world’; any images of mother animals gambolling with their young; poems.

Not everyone’s mum is the best in the world. ‘Best’ is a superlative, and this implies just one ultimate mother. And all mums hate liars, almost as much as they hate your method of filing clothes and cereal bowls under ‘floor’.

If we have to pick the Best Mummy Ever, then we could plump for The Virgin Mary, possibly Eve, or perhaps Mother Theresa. If Aunt Bessie had children as well as the nephews and nieces that her name suggests, she would also be a pretty strong contender. The Queen Mum was also quite good. Face it: your mum isn’t all that. And that is not one of those aforementioned jokes. It is a fact of the universe.

While you should not get your mum a shit card, you must also avoid swinging too far in the opposite direction. Do not buy her an absolutely bitching bouquet to make up for all those times you never watered her tomato plants. Your mother will think that you are softening the blow for a bad announcement, and will worry that you have broken the cat/are going to prison/ left Grandma in Asda again. This is not optimal.

Do not buy her Quality Street and then nosh all the Big Purples. In the same vein, do not buy her Celebrations and nosh everything except the Bounty. This is selfish and unfair, and it may cause you to vomit onto the carpet, lost in a hungover world of confectionery-based woe. This would be annoying for all parties, not to mention difficult to clean.

Finally, do not tell her you never asked to be born, ask whether you are adopted, or compare her to Kerry Katona. Yes, she did win Mum of The Year. Twice. She was also married to Brian McFadden off of Westlife.

Illustration by Lottie Unwin