If you are a mum, I hope this Sunday brings you all the treats that you deserve, be that a lie-in (depending on the age of your children this may be possible…or as likely as a trip to the moon), flowers, chocolates, breakfast in bed – or maybe a Sunday lunch out with your family. Perhaps even all of the above, if you’re really lucky! It’s your day – make the most of it.

If you’re a childless woman who struggles through Mothers Day with a smile, all the while holding it together and praying the day passes by as quickly as possible, here are a few tips for getting through the day as painlessly as you can:

1. Focus on your own mum

If you’re lucky enough to have your mum around, cherish her. If she’s anything like my amazing mum (aka De Mama) then she probably deserves a medal. None of us know how long we have with our loved ones, but the fact is, we’re all on borrowed time. I’ve been fortunate enough to have two amazing holidays with my mum recently, and have written blogs about both our Costa Rica and Thailand trips. Make memories and capture them. They are far more valuable than buying ‘stuff’.

2. Be kind to yourself

If you don’t have children to buy you flowers on Mother’s Day, why not treat yourself to some? You don’t have to be a mum to be worthy of some beautiful blooms, like these ones from Prestige Flowers. They brighten up your home and your mood. Childless women can feel down in the run-up to occasions like Mother’s Day and Christmas, as well as the big days themselves, as it reminds us of what we don’t have. Allow yourself a short period of reflection, then remind yourself how strong you are and how far you’ve come and slay the day, girlfriend! You are a warrior woman! And warriors deserve treats.

3. Book a trip

It’s not Mother’s Day everywhere in the world! If you’re feeling overwhelmed by sadness at the prospect of Mother’s Day, book a trip to a place where it’s not Mother’s Day at all! Here’s the list of who celebrates when. I know people who have lost mothers or children who do this, and it helps to take their mind off the day’s celebrations back home. Ditto Christmas. Of course, Christmas is Christmas wherever you are, but if you’ve ever had December 25th somewhere hot when you’re from a cold climate or vice versa, you’ll know that it feels so unlike your traditional celebrations that it hardly seems like Christmas at all. I still can’t get over the feeling of spending Christmas Day on the beach in Sydney one year – weird, but fun!

4. Have a Non-Mother’s Day date

Get together with your childless/childfree mates (if you can find some – we’re a rare species) and have an alternative Non-Mother’s Day celebration. If you don’t have non-mum mates, join a group (like mine: The Non Mum Network) and find your tribe! Avoid traditional family eateries as they’ll be full of families and Mums Go Free! offers (ahem, what about us?!). Choose a swanky, family-unfriendly establishment and enjoy the chilled ambience and (uninterrupted!) chat.

5. Stay off social media

You know your newsfeed will be clogged up with proud mummies showing off their gifts and family snaps. In the name of self-preservation, stay away. It’s just one day. Tomorrow those same mums will be back to bemoaning bad behaviour and asking if it’s wine o’clock yet. Count your blessings

That’s it! Whether you’re a mum or a non-mum this Mother’s Day, I wish you a wonderful day filled with love and laughter.

I was lucky enough to be gifted these gorgeous treats from Prestige Flowers which I had sent to my mum for Mother’s Day (don’t worry, I got her my own gift too ). There’s a huge range of flowers available for every budget and preference on their website. Next day delivery is available if ordered before 9pm, there’s a £5 off voucher inside your order, and there’s even a free box of luxury chocolates thrown in at the moment too. Result! My mum was delighted with her early Mother’s Day treats – I’m sure yours will be too.

Oh, and non-mums – go on, treat yourselves!

Sam x

PS – Non-Mums, did you know that there’s a CNBC Magazine, and World Childless Week? I told you we count too!

An abridged version of this article has also appeared at Huffington Post UK here.

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (lifeabirdseyeview)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Celebrating Mums (And Non-Mums) On Mother’s Day appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

So who are the other characters in the sit-com of my life?
Which two innocent beings were responsible for the creation of this bubbling blonde mass of insecurities cunningly disguised as a fierce and fiesty be-atch?
First up, I give you Patricia aka De Mama, the alpha female of the Blake posse:

Standing tall at 5ft 2, she’s a Deborah Meaden/Big Mo hybrid. She resembles the indomitable Ms Meaden not only in facial features but also her staunchly suspicious nature, keeping her (bank) cards close to her chest – her trust is earned.

She’s like a learned owl, and having had her fingers burnt by a few unscrupulous characters and one laptop-hacking bunch of Eastern Europeans, is more security-conscious than The Pentagon. If an email comes in from an unknown source, it’s ISIS.

However, she’s also as street-savvy as Big Mo from Eastenders – she ain’t takin’ no crap from nobody. Like me, she’s an action-packed feisty bundle of ‘tude, who loves nothing more than bustin’ out shapes to the latest Ibiza anthems. She can “big fish, little fish” with the best of ’em. When I would roll in at 6am Sundays (still do sometimes!) worse for wear with a faceful of smudged glitter eyeshadow following a marathon raving sesh, she’d climb out of bed for a cuppa whilst I filled her in on the night’s events. I got my strong twerk ethic from her.

More recently, she zoomed across a series of 650ft-high ziplines above the Costa Rican rainforest despite her fear of heights, grimacing like Wallace and Gromit til her face ached. She’s awesome. The best mother I ever had.

Of course, I didn’t get my height from De Mama, as I’m almost six feet tall. No, I owe my go-go-gadget limbs to my dad, Alan :

My pops is of the old school stiff upper lip era, a hard-working salt of the earth geezer hailing from south east London. He first locked eyes with a teenaged De Mama as she casually tossed her flowing blonde locks and sauntered past him whilst out walking Red, her imaginatively-named red setter, as he was playing football (my dad, not the dog.)

They were soon married and to their shock, surprise and…dismay, I put in an appearance soon after. Letting out forlorn sighs, they accepted their fate; their lives were now ruined anyway so they may as well try for a son too….and then promptly had Karen, my sister. Oh well!

Dad had gone from a carefree young chap to being surrounded by familial females, so he had no choice but to do what any bloke in his position would…..he went down the pub. For oh, about 20 years or so.

He may not have got a word in edgeways in our three-bed semi, but surrounded by his colleagues and mates he was the life and soul of the party. Never one to hold back, he loved nothing more after a tough day at the office than to shimmy on down to Smollensky’s with some clients and have a few bevvies ‘on the baron.’

My parents are chalk and cheese in many respects, and their ability to partake in a par-tay is one of them. Whilst Dad has always been the beer-guzzler, Mum is unconscious, eyeballs rolling, after one whiff of a wine gum. She henceforth became the lifelong designated driver, ferrying a pickled Pops home from their jobs in The City.

No strangers to hard work, they’d both clock up untold hours there each week, striving to give us kids the best of everything. Annoyingly sometimes, they also passed on their strong work ethic to me, making it physically impossible for me to skive off school even if I wanted to : a guilt complex ensured there’ll never be any shirking from home for me.

They also share a love of music, the soundtrack to my childhood being icons such as The Beach Boys, Queen and Abba, played full blast on vinyl on our old Sony stacking stereo. On Friday nights  after the pub my dad would wear out the VHS player watching The Blues Brothers repeatedly on video. Despite a tendancy towards being the strong silent type, I know my dad would do anything for me. He really is top of the Pops…

Then there’s my ickle snish Karen. Born three years after yours truly, she was my nemesis for the first 21 years of my life until I disappeared one day into the Ibizan sunset.

As kids, I’d threaten her with dreadful dreamt-up outcomes if she disobeyed my commands. My favourite was getting her to massage my feet for hours on end “otherwise Misty (our cat) will die.” Cruel I know, but highly effective and a perk of being the eldest. The only perk I reckon, seeing as the youngest generally has a far easier time of it.
Firstborns send mums into a frenzy of cooing and fussing, cleaning and mollycoddling. By the time the second sprog arrives the frazzled mother lets them sit goggle-eyed in front of Peppa on the telly eating fistfuls of soggy snacks, grateful for a bit of respite.

The sibling rivalry ramped up to fever pitch as we got older and the ensuing ‘accidents’ came fast and furious. One unfortunate incident involving Karen being tied with a skipping rope to the back of my bike as I pedalled furiously down the street until her foot was a mangled mess in the spokes. A frantic trip to A&E followed for stitches. Boy, did I cop it for that one!

Another time, she threw a hairbrush at me full-force, which split my lip wide open and left me looking like something out of The Nutty Professor. Never a good look for an already self-conscious teen.

We spent many years in a tight tangle of fighting limbs, just as you’d see in an old Tom and Jerry cartoon…..a spinning ball of bodies with the occasional arm or leg sticking out. Black eyes and bulging bumps were de rigeur. We only stopped arguing to eat or sleep.

Exhausted by it all, upon my return from Ibiza aged 22, we decided to call a truce. My parents heaved a sigh of relief as harmony was (for the most part) restored. Today, she’s my mate and confidante and I love her dearly. We even live a few doors apart in the same street. Her rebellious nature has been replaced with a personality as soft and mellow as marshmallow. She’s almost TOO nice. She is now engaged to Chris and mother to a mischievous two year old son named Hayden, who melts our hearts and tests our nerves in equal measure.

The final remaining member of our immediate family is Gramps, my paternal grandfather who is still going strong at the ripe age of 88. Due to his forgetfulness these days he’s as shocked as anyone else when we tell them his age, such is his youthful constitution and pink flushed cheeks.
He loves long walks in the woods and flickering old black and white movies, although he doesn’t follow the plot so keenly these days and falls asleep mid-sentence like the grandpa in The Simpsons.

So that’s it! The players in the game of my life. You can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family, but that’s fine by me as I’d still pick each of them…..

……in a line-up.

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

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