My Mother's Day present involved destroying baking ware...

If you're on the 'Book and follow Where's My Glow? on there you may have seen this little snippet from yesterday:

I knew that Tricks had made me a handprint magnet and a bookmark at Day Care - because they were presented to me on Thursday along with some iced biscuits with a joyful "Happy Mother's Day. Can I eat them?". I died from all the cute. My first hand crafted Mother's Day presents were divine! But I had no clue what on earth could involve the destroying of a muffin tin.

Last night Map Guy tried to sneak his way to the shed, muffin tin in hand. It is impossible to sneak to the shed when I know there are presents involved.  My hearing becomes cat-like. I could have heard that shed key being picked up half a kilometre away.

I listened. There was banging around. Then... there was a drill. What the actual fuck?

I had visions of some bizarre art piece that would represent the trials and tribulations of motherhood. Or even a take on consumerism. Anything but what I actually received this morning when I was woken up for the best god damn breakfast in bed I've ever had:

A bowl of BACON ROSES, PEOPLE!!!! It does not get much better than that!

Here's how he made them:

• Buy a cheap muffin tin. Drill a small hole in the bottom of each section then wash thoroughly - metal filings don't go down so well
• Preheat oven to 190 degrees
• Roll up middle rasher bacon from the thin end to the fat end
• Place in the muffin tin and then in a baking dish - this allows the fat to leak out otherwise you'll just have a bacon rose sitting in a puddle of fat. Ick
• Cook for 40 minutes (allowing a gooooood sleep in!)
• Place on stems from fake flowers, or if you can't get to the $2 shop in time arrange them in a bowl
• Serve and receive the biggest brownie points of your life!

Thank you, Map Guy. Om nom nom nom nom. I declare it the Best Mother's Day Present Ever!

What did you get?

Bypass the slippers this Mother’s Day. Please.

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I love these el-cheapo slippers you bought at 4:55pm yesterday. Said no mother ever on Mother's Day morning.

There are definitely a few yawn worthy Mother’s Day gifts promoted in the catalogues that are starting to breed in my letterbox. Think crappy beige slippers, a box of choccies that expired in 2010, a dressing gown with cats embroided on it and those foot spas that you have to wash with acid lest some weird fungus moves in and starts growing on your feet (please note handmade stuff is never on the yawn list. Ever. I die of the cute even when my first thought is “um, what is it?” rather than “oh I love it!”).

Until relatively recently, top of my list would have been flowers. As someone who used to spend from September to October sneezing and sucking back on antihistamines like they were Tic Tacs, anything that reminded me of spring would make me cringe. Flowers, baby bunnies, lambs frolicking in a meadow, AFL grand finals etc.

Map Guy knew this when we met and has never, ever bought me flowers.

But then I went all fancy pants and got “desensitized to spring”. A series of weekly injections for six months and, well, everything changed. Now that my face no longer swells for three months every year I have learned to appreciate the blooms, the bunnies and the little lambies. I’m still working on the AFL, but these things take time and desensitization isn't a miracle cure after all.

I am still very new to flowers and from someone who used to avoid them at all costs I now catch myself liking all the pretty bunches on Instagram (were they always so pretty?) and looking up what different flowers are called because my knowledge base is limited to roses and gerberas thanks mainly to TV commercials.

But I am coming around to the point where recently I put a small posy of flowers on the table when we had visitors and in the past month have gone to TWO gardening shows so I could learn more. ME! Choosing to spend a day surrounded by gorgeous flowers! Can you believe it?

This week I’ve learned that Lilies are symbols of fertility (hint hint: for the mama to be) and that pink roses are a not only a classic for Mother’s Day but are one of the better flowers for people with the sneezles because the tight petals keep most of the pollen trapped well and good.

My only issue now with flowers is that Map Guy was so good at the art of not getting me any that I will now have to do some serious hinting to let him know it is now more than OK *coughtuplipspleasecough*.

If you’d like to spoil your mum, grandmother, step-mum, mother-in-law or even a girlfriend who has lost a child or isn’t able to have one (it can be a really tough day for them) with $100 to spend at Roses Only, use the entry form below to tell me the best quality a mum should have. And fear not, despite the name they do have other types of flowers plus champers, chocolates, beauty products, fruit boxes and all that stuff that smells good, so if your mama is spring-phobic like I used to be, there is still something there for her. Remember that Roses Only do deliver Australia wide on Mother's Day so even if you're miles apart your pressie will get to her on the day.

Head over to Roses Only for some great non yawn worthy Mother’s Day gift ideas. But don’t forget to give her a sleep in and a handmade card, too – that’s free and very much appreciated. 
 

Mothers' Day Pity Party

Yup, today was my very first Mothers' Day. Is it Mother's or Mothers'? I can never tell. I'm gonna say Mothers' cos it's for all mamas not just mine.

Anywho, my main wish for my inaugural day of celebrating stretch marks, was to sleep in. That went flying out the window because somebody forgot to inform Tricky, who decided to wake up and scream from 3:30 - 4:30am. Because he's been sick, after every sleep cycle he wakes, realizes he's drowning in snot and screams. Self settling kinda buggers off when there is a glazed doughnut monster around.

Lather, rinse and repeat from 5:30 - 6:30am, at which point I gave up and shoved a nipple in his mouth. Ahhh silence. He then crawls up to my face and... SMACK... headbutts me in the nose so hard I cry.

I hand Tricky over to Map Guy with a "you deal with him" glare and between sobs wish myself a Happy fucking Mothers Day as I fall back to sleep. If there is one thing I'm good at, it's self pity.

Fast forward about an hour and I'm woken by Map Guy and Tricks bringing me breakfast in bed. And because it was "made by Tricky" it was served on his plate with my drink in his sippy cup. Well, he can't reach the cupboard with the proper plates, can he? Nawwww.

Then there was the whole "it's on my plate therefore it's for me... WHY AREN'T YOU FEEDING ME?" screams so I shared my toast with Tricky. But not the bacon. I don't share bacon.

I was presented with a framed family photo (the gorgeous one of us at the Royal Wedding party) which I already knew I was getting because I walked in on Map Guy making it the other day. But that's cool because I hate surprises and it also meant my present for my Mum was taken care of because he'd made one for her too. Score. He gets extra brownie points because he's had ManFlu all week and still had enough forethought to get me something that didn't cost much but meant so so so much to me.

Did you get any presents for Mothers' Day? Or like me do you prefer the gifts that don't cost must but mean the most? 

P.S. My nose still hurts.

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Glowless rocked the Aussie Bloggers Conference thanks to

HealthyChart and Baby Goes Retro and Simply Colors

Mother's Day

Today marks my last Mother's Day as a non-mother... I'm currently just host to a parasitic creature, but that just doesn't look as good on a card. Although if you happen to work for Hallmark, let's talk.

If the catalogues infiltrating my letter box are anything to go by, as soon as Tricky is born I will be overwhelmed with the desire for slippers and toasters once a year. Slippers are great and definitely have their place (on my feet) but the first thing I think of when I hear of them being given as a Mother's Day gift is not so much "loved mother", but more "on special at Kmart".


For those with small children the task of buying the gift gets passed off to the partner, and I'm not sure Hubby realises that the gift he would give HIS mother is not necessarily the gift I would like, even though we will both be covered under the "Spoil Mum this Mother's Day" banner. So I guess I should resign myself to the prospect of a new pair of slippers every year - although I can't wait until Tricky is old enough to make me a fantastic home-made card with a lovely scribble that is meant to be a picture of me. But until then... let's hope Hubby knows Peter Alexander sells slippers too.


Happy Mother's Day