This week I have learned...

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...that in my new furry boots, warmest winter coat and woolly hat I look like a yeti. Not really the look I was hoping for but good for frightening small children on the playground and I was definitely warm (in fact I thought I was running a temperature as it was such an insulating ensemble)

...that this works better than cough medicine. Also guaranteed to promote high decibel snoring and ensure you have the marital bed to yourself.

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...that it is best to remember to apply make-up to both eyes rather than just one, especially if you want to present a professional image at parents' evening. That's what happens when I try to multi-task, I don't finish anything!

...that it is not a good idea to attempt to eat a brie, grape and watercress sandwich while driving.  The brie was delicious but the grapes and watercress I ended up wearing.

...that the only place where there is any sign of Spring here is in the kitchen and...that S's 'Happy Biscuits' are delicious. 

Mothering...

I've often wondered why in the UK we have the term 'Mothering Sunday' for Mothers' Day and why it's a completely different date to other parts of the world?  I turned to trusty Google and discovered that like all good festivals it has a Christian origin and in English tradition involves cake. In Surrey and Kent it was even called Pudding Pie Sunday - excellent! Take a look at this Kentish Pudding Pie recipe from the Telegraph; looks delicious but guaranteed to turn hips and thighs into roly poly puddings too. 

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Apparently, Mothering Sunday in the UK dates back to the sixteenth century when people would return back to their 'mother church' - either their local church or the one where their family was based. Children and young people 'in service' (basically servants for the rich) would finally get a day off to visit their mothers and give them a gift. Traditionally, girls in service would often bake and decorate a simnel cake to give to their mothers in gratitude and as proof of their domestic skills.  Because Mothering Sunday falls on the fourth Sunday of Lent it makes sense that this type of cake is more closely associated with Easter. 

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We don't really hear the term 'mothering', at least not with positive connotations. To be accused of mothering would be an indictment of being over-protective, controlling and refusing to let your children grow up.  Much press is given to bad mothers, jealous and resentful parenting and almost every shortcoming is often blamed on a mother's failings. I don't think there's enough positive affirmations of mothering or positive images that  are not linked to religious icons or dodgy celebrities (don't forget Kerry Katona managed the accolade of Mum of the Year - twice!)  

It's hard to articulate just what 'mothering' is in the truest sense of the word though; 'nurturing' does not seem adequate.  When I first became a mum I found it difficult to explain to my ex-colleagues just exactly what I did all day and why it felt so much more important than anything I had achieved in the world of work. 

Naomi Stadlan gives one of the best summations of a mother's work I can think of in her book 'What Mothers Do':

'...Mothers, who are doing so much, often describe themselves as sitting around, doing nothing. They feel lonely, invisible and unimportant. Yet their work belongs to much more than one organisation. Each mother is preparing her child to belong to the society that we all share. It doesn't seem too much to say that the whole of civilisation depends on the work of mothers...'

I also like this extract from 'The Hand That First Held Mine' by Maggie O'Farrell where one of the main characters, Lexie, muses on the women we become after children:

"We change shape, we buy low heeled shoes...We begin to carry in our bags half-eaten rusks, a small tractor, a shred of beloved fabric, a plastic doll. We lose muscle tone, sleep, reason, perspective. Our hearts begin to live outside our bodies...We learn that we must sometimes walk an inch at a time, to stop and examine every stick,  every stone...We learn how to cool a fever, ease a cough, the four indicators of meningitis, that one must sometimes push a swing for two hours" 

This is the minutiae of mothering; the caring, the worrying and the loving that fill our days, and nights, and ensure that we are inextricably bound by the heartstrings to our children. So here's to mothers on this Mothering Sunday, and to a life's work. 

Fat Tuesday

Apparently, instead of Shrove Tuesday or Pancake Day, as it's more commonly known, lots of countries (well, Brazil, France and Sweden anyway) call today 'Fat Tuesday'.  I quite often have a fat Tuesday - and Wednesday Thursday and Friday too.  Come to think of it, the weekend is generally pretty rotund as well. There really is only one less indulgent day of the week for me and that's Meagre Monday; the day I re-start my diet (over and over) *sighs*  One day, preferably before Easter and the avalanche of chocolate, I will manage to shift that second stone (the other three around pensionable age at this rate).  I'm not really very good at moderation or self-restraint especially when it comes to resisting the mouth watering appeal of sizzling batter.

I failed miserably yesterday to explain the concept of Lent to S.  At 10 years old the idea of abstinence and penance seems thoroughly bonkers whereas the doctrine of pancakes with sugar or syrup is a religion in itself  and observed diligently; though I think both girls actually believe the option of lemon juice is a legitimate part of their five-a-day.

In the Little House we have a tradition of having pancakes for tea whenever someone in the family has been to the dentist.  This practice has been extended to include the orthodontist (bless him) and so we can be assured of a fattening treat at least once a month thanks to H.  The rather loopy idea of combining pancakes with dentistry was a suggestion made to my mother when I was very small by a dear little old lady that attended my family's church.  Whether she put such an idea into our heads as a result of some denture dementia or genuine mischief I'm not sure, but it's a tradition that's been adhered to for at least 40 years and I feel quite sure that our girls will need little encouragement to carry it on. 

This morning we had a houseful of girlies with four extra for breakfast (three sleepover guests and one early morning arrival) and so The Wonderful Man decided to treat us all to American style pancakes.  The batter was much thicker than the English variety and it made super fluffy offerings. We decided on an interesting hybrid of Golden and Maple Syrup to accompany them - perfect.