Right now, she's probably looking down and saying "Gee thanks, you shouldn't have bothered!"
I'm sincerely hoping that now we've gone past the 12th of March the mood which has enveloped me since the end of December will push off and allow me to be myself again. Friday was the third anniversary of mum's funeral and this is the first year (apart from the actual year it happened) that I have been affected this way. The rest of my family have either talked about it, or pretended it wasn't happening or dealt with it internally. Me, I seem to have had a mini meltdown. Well, you know me, I don't do anything by halves.
My Mothers Day presents included flowers, chocolates, wine gums, a cushion (from Mac who bought it whilst out shopping with his father in post-match euphoria), a one cup/tea pot combo from my grandson (only on special occasions do I remember I'm technically a granny) and a book token from Matthew. Lydia phoned and apologised for the "boring" present but I was out, spending it.
On the way home from Surrey Quays I pulled up at a set of traffic lights, put my handbrake on and found my hand at earlobe level. It was obviously broken. Barely three weeks after my exhaust fell off. I need a new car. And, you see, the thing is my current car knows this and is getting its own back. Little does it realise that all it's doing is speeding up the arrival of the new car.
When we got home, Mac breezed into the house and said "Mummy's brakes have gone!" which propelled David out into the hallway in a panic, vegetable peeler in one hand and a carrot in the other.
My brakes have gone.....that sums up the feeling of the past three months perfectly