I wanted to publically thank my Mumpty and today seemed liked the most appropriate day. But before I get on to that, let’s talk about being a mum.

Being a mum is the hardest job I have ever had. But right now as the beans lay on my bed eating crumpets watching the bitch that is Peppa Pig, I can’t help but think that it is also the best job I have done, too.

They bring me immense joy and the love I have for them sometimes feels like it’s going to overflow out of my body; like it won’t even fit inside me. But other times they fill me just as much with pure fucking rage. I want to walk away from them, leave them in the hallway screaming because they don’t want to put their wellies on. I just want to shout back “fuck it then. Don’t put on your wellies, I don’t care. No one other you actually cares about the fucking wellies!!”

Then that love kicks in. Pride takes over and a smile creeps on to my face. She knows what she wants and she isn’t prepared to compromise. She doesn’t want to wear wellies and she’ll do all that is in her power to make that happen. Pure determination – now where does she get that from?!

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Mums are tough as fuck and it is that animalistic strength that makes us hold it together. It drives us to get up in the morning when all we want to do is crawl into a hole, it makes us put their little hearts before our own and do all we can to protect them.

My mum taught me so much and I’ll never actually be able to thank her for it. Just like all of us she has made some mistakes, she’s made me cry and made me lose my shit with anger; but fuck me, she is always there. Like always.

Over the last 24 months I have been in a pretty dark place and subsequently I have been a horrible version of myself. I’ve looked in the mirror and I’ve not known the person in the reflection – she was miserable, selfish, hurtful and rough as fucking arse holes. There have been moments I thought my beans deserved better. They deserve the mum I want to be, they deserve a mum who doesn’t hit the self-destruct button; but then in she comes…in comes the mothership.

It can be a small gesture like a cup of tea and smile, because she knows I like to process shit on my own first, or it can be the biggest hug and pep talk that gives me that little bit of reassurance I need to leave the house that day.

This isn’t a post about me and my self indulgence emotions, this is about my Mum and how she sees me. She sees me before I even see myself some days. Giving her one day, 11th march, just doesn’t seem enough. She gives me (and my biggest and bro) all of her days, the ones she makes us share are because she is giving them to our kids. How do you thank that person? How do you thank the person that saves you every single day?

I’ve decided I’m going to do it by making her proud. I am gonna raise these beans the best way I can, I am going to be there at all times. When their lives get tough, I’ll be their punching bag, when their heart breaks I’ll bring the wine and the Pretty Woman DVD (then slope off in the middle of the night and destroy the little prick that brought my bean pain), when they’re nervous about making that jump, I’ll give them that gentle nudge and race to the bottom to be their safety net – just in case.

Basically mum, I’ll be the best version of you that I can be. That way, when you look at me and feel pride, you’ll know that you did that. You’ll know that every bit of me is because of you. I hope that shows you how thankful I am – plus I posted your card late and can’t afford to get you an actual present.

Love you Mumpty. Heaps and tons and millions xx