We asked Standard Issue contributors what Mother’s Day meant to them. From humping horses to tender memories, bad craftsmanship to missed best friends, turns out it means a lot.
When I was seven we had to make Mothering Sunday cards at Brownies and I drew a stallion mounting a mare, something I had witnessed the previous week at my local riding school.
RIP Shirley Buckley 1932-1991.
I still write lists of things to tell you. Daft. Xx
I always hunt for a card that says Mothering Sunday rather than Mother’s Day, because my mum prefers that.
It’s hard to get across just how wonderful she is in mere words, so I cover the card in kisses and also ALWAYS sign it “from your favourite child” to piss my brothers off.
As someone who lost their mother aged six, actually ON Mother’s Day (1991), the weeks of promo emails and marketing leading up to it are intensely wearing. We had been making cards that week in school for our mums and I remember it still very clearly. Yellow tissue paper petals glued on a green card. I never got to give it to her.
I always change the Mum on the card to Mam with my pen.
I made my mum a cardboard case covered in a doily (Blue Peter pattern), filled it with chocolates, was jealous that she was getting all these chocs so took a nibble from each choc and wrapped them all back up individually. Blamed it on mice under my bed.
One year I took ages making Dad take me to multiple card shops trying to find the biggest card for the coins I had. I was so happy: the card was almost as tall as me. I was so excited watching Mum’s face as she opened it, waiting to see her reaction. She burst out laughing: “To my wonderful wife…” I was devastated.
Card shopping is a pain. My mother couldn’t give less of a hoot about the colour pink, shoes or chocolate. Until Hallmark start making cards with rescue dogs, mental health patients and horses on it’s always going to be tough finding a card adorned with anything she cares about. Unless they start making them with me on – however, my polite but persistent letter campaign has shown they’re in no hurry to do that.
This year Mother’s Day means remembrance because my rose of a Mam is in another garden.
Miss you every single day. xxx
Mine is my best friend. She says: “Mother’s Day is a crass commercial construct” but the one year I forgot it I got icily blanked for a fortnight.
It means a lot to my mum and I find Mothering Sunday cards as she specifically cares for them.
Gabby Hutchinson Crouch
Free chocolates for having given birth twice, and sending cards from me and the kids to my lovely Mum.
My mother told me that she didn’t care about Mother’s Day. Then one year I didn’t get her a card. I’ve never known anger like it. Turns out she does like it. On a more serious note it’s a day when I know my Mum misses her mum so I go round and talk to her and I get to hear cool stories of when my Mum was growing up. We don’t need a day to remember my gran but it’s a nice excuse to chat about how lovely she was.
My sister and I were hugely distracted teenagers in 1998. We bought thoughtless cards and wrote perfunctory notes. Mum was really upset. I remember to this day glimpsing her blotchy face and swollen nose and (very uncharacteristic) sombre mood when we had returned from a full day teenagering. I’ve never forgotten since that time. Not because she will cry, but because she has never expected anything from me except to be happy and feel loved. The least I can do is buy her a card with a meerkat saying, “Claire loves you. Simples.”
That I’m crap at art and should always buy cards.
That my children, bless them, will make me have a bubble bath – whether I want one or not.
Some of Standard Issue's brilliant women's carefully crafted words for your reading pleasure.