A Mother By Any Other Name

Yesterday was Mothering Sunday in the UK (and quite possibly in some other countries too). It was also Mother’s Day, which is, I think, an entirely different thing, albeit one was born of the other.

Mothering Sunday, as I understand it (and I rarely understand very much at all) is less about mothers and more about churches. Mother’s Day is very much about mothers.

At one time, it was, for me, all about my mother. Then, because I got married, it was all about my mother and Mrs Proclaims’ mother. Now, because I have children, Mrs Proclaims gets to enjoy a piece of the action.

And this is, of course, how it should be. I have no objections. All three are more than worthy of the acclaim and recognition for their roles as mothers and in the case of two of them, as grandmothers.

My children have not, in previous years, brought a great deal to the table in terms of celebrating their own mother. It’s not their fault really, they are quite young. Mini Proclaims is still too young to make a special effort on Mother’s Day. But as she makes it clear all year round that Mrs Proclaims is her preferred parent then perhaps she doesn’t need a special day. It is true that my youngest child has warmed to me in recent months and is now, at times, capable of showing me something approximating affection, but I am definitely only her second favourite adult and she’s quick to put me back in my place should I get ideas above my station.

My eldest daughter, Little Proclaims, has always been a fan of my work. She loves Mrs Proclaims, of that there is no doubt, but she is more likely to demonstrate her less admirable qualities on Mrs Proclaims’ watch than on mine. I think it’s because mother and daughter have very similar personalities and this can, at times, lead to clashes. And Little Proclaims has definitely acquired some of her mother’s precociousness too, so they can be quite articulate clashes.

But Little Proclaims does love her mummy and was very excited about this year’s Mother’s Day and an opportunity to make it special. Over the last year or so, she has learned to read and write to an acceptable standard for a five-year-old and was therefore well-equipped to take care of making and writing her own Mother’s Day card.

Which she did.

She was very proud of her efforts, as well she might be.

The card contained a charming message of filial love in beautiful handwriting, with very accurate spelling.

For the most part.

Little Proclaims is only five years old. She knew the day was all about celebrating her mother. But she calls Mrs Proclaims ‘mummy’, not ‘mother’. She never uses the word ‘mother’.

So the card read: 

Happy Muvod’s Day

Which, as far as Little Proclaims was concerned, was the correct spelling.