It’s Mother’s Day and I’ve been baking for Mum. I made scones to say ‘I love you’, and to say ‘Thanks for housing me in your womb and pushing me out, only to have adult me living in your spare room – please don’t push me out.’
The scone baking fell flat. For the first time I actually had a ‘scone fail’. Instead of high-rising happiness, the dough pffted all over the oven tray into long blobs. This was the only day that I didn’t want to screw up scones, because I didn’t want to balls up my ‘Thank You’, to Mum.
That wasn’t the only thing that had fallen flat. My heart was spilt across the kitchen floor and I tiptoed around it; I didn’t know why. And then I realised that the last time I had made Mum some fabulous foodie concoction for Mother’s Day, was two years ago. I was covered in frosting, flour and club sandwich fillings, and the phone had rung.
“I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m in an ambulance on the way to hospital with your dad.”
It was my aunt, assuring me that my dad was going to be ok; that he was going to hospital because they just wanted to sort his meds out. He never came out. On the third night, his cancer had gotten the better of him.
At the time I carried on cooking and assembling for Mum; hoping for the best, trying to eradicate thoughts of the worst. I surprised her with a high tea of epic tastiness. I feigned happiness and gratitude, as I chewed on worry. I cut the high tea short with the latest news of Dad. Each bite thereafter fed the knot in my stomach. I apologised, and packed a lunch for my aunt, to take to the hospital. My special lunch date with Mum was tainted.
My Mother’s Day comes with a mix of emotion evoked; happiness, gratitude, love, respect, and a sprinkling of sadness. I am incredibly thankful to have the mum that I do, and to my aunts who’ve taken me under their wings, like a daughter. There are no words to express how loved I feel.
There is, however, a pocket of my heart that hurts a little for how flavourless my sandwiches and cupcakes tasted, that day. I can’t take that away, but I can make some more again. And I can take a bite out of my flat scones cum cake buns, and know that even though they didn’t turn out as the recipe had read, they still tasted really good.
To those old mums, new mums, grandmums, and mums housing buns in their ovens – Happy Mother’s Day. To those mums who’ve lost little ones or bigger ones, the ones without mums, and the ones who are trying to be mums, I’m sending you much love. X