I can't believe this is my 10th Mother's Day. I feel like I should be full of confidence in my mothering. But I'm still working things out. I expect I'll still be winging it in 10 years' time. But one things continues, I keep giving it my best. I feel like worrying takes about 15% of my time. No one wants to screw their kids up. But you have to keep trying, and keep hoping that they don't publish a memoir entitled 'Why My Mother is the Worst'.
Anyway, we had a lovely day, for the most part. My son ran into our bedroom at 6.20am shouting, 'can we bring Mummy tea in bed now?!'. After Husband and I yelled at him, he ran off and I slept til almost 9am. Moozles and Dubz love bringing me breakfast in bed on Mother's Day. And apparently they love watching me eat my breakfast. Every little bite of toast. Every sip of Earl Grey. Every damn year.
We went for a walk in Richmond Park (the kids scooted part of the way), before going for lunch at Rossopomodoro in Kingston. Then when we got home, Moozles and Dubz took turns throwing tantrums over random things. Please tell me that tantrums will one day stop. I have images of them graduating from university and getting married, and still throwing tantrums. Still, we had a mostly good day, which is pretty good when you have small children.
Happy Mothering Sunday! xx