A week or so before Mother’s Day my No.1 Daughter asked me what I wanted for Mother’s Day. My eyes lit up. This was obviously my chance to ask for all my dreams; the expensive handbag, the holiday in the Bahamas I’ve been wanting
for years. BUT, alas perhaps this is a bit steep for a 17 year old to pay for. My No. 1 Daughter could see me in thought and suddenly added,
“Your tulips will be standard.” (Tulips being my favourite flowers.)
“You know what I would like, for you and your brother to cook tea and wash up.” From the look on her face this was not quite what she was expecting, but we left it at that.
The next thing I knew the shopping list had been updated for Mr Hoff and he was, I presume looking down the list because all of a sudden I could hear a lot of cursing under his breath at the prospect of the cost of all these added extras.
“Fresh muscle, fresh squid, smoked salmon, fresh basil, fresh thyme... “ and so it went on.
“If she thinks I’m buying this she can forget it!” Whilst I’m thinking how great it all sounds.
“Anyway it’s your fault!”
“What do you mean it’s all my fault?” (Smiling and thinking how it didn’t bother me.) “It takes two to make a child.” Or perhaps he missed that lesson at school, as Mr Hoff, with list in hand went off to practice his negotiation skills.
“No. 1 Daughter, if you think I’m going to buy all this then you can forget it. You can put all these ingredients onto the list when you’re paying the bill!” All I could hear was girlie giggling from upstairs.
Eventually Mother’s Day arrives and in anticipation for what the day holds I get up to be greeted with an array of presents and a Sunday Tea that made me feel like the luckiest mother alive.
Smoked salmon on a bed of mini Nan bread, sour cream, garnished with fresh thyme.
Fresh taggiatelli with tiger prawns, muscles, squid, and cherry tomatoes, accompanied with baby leaves and garlic bread.
Chocolate crème Brule with raspberries and blueberries.
As I looked round the kitchen at the aftermath of No.1 Daughter’s culinary expertise, almost every utensil had been used. But did I let this worry me. No, because No. 1 Son was washing up.
All you mothers out there I hope you had a great day. And do you know what I thought about Mr Hoff’s comments; he wouldn’t have been saying, ”it was all my fault” if this was revolved around Fathers Day. Then again his Fathers Day will be like all his other Sundays going and playing golf and coming home for a good meal.