Happy Mothers Day, now cook my party pies

Yes, it's that one time of the year where we get to show our mums our appreciation for being, well, our mums. Not that we shouldn't be showing appreciation every day of the year, it's just that today it get accentuated with breakfast in bed, flowers, and other shit.

Of course, being the only human offspring remaining in the country, it was up to me to organise present/card/flowers. Whoa, silly me - It's ALWAYS up to me to organise such things (And you know it, Andrew). This year was easy - conveniently Chanel has re-released their limited edition 'Gardenia' perfume just in time for mothers day, and well, that's what the old duck wanted, so there's happy campers all round. Except for me, because she's hidden it somewhere and I can't use it. How, um, unjust. The non-human offspring managed to scrape together some beautiful lilies, which is not a bad effort for a 17 year-old deaf cat, a dog wearing a space helmet and a hyperactive little jack russell. Good on you, guys.

Chatting to work colleagues on Friday, discussing what we were all doing for mother's day. Breakfasts on the Mornington Peninsula; picnics in the Botanical Gardens; lunch bbqs, etc. Inevitably, they asked what I was doing for my mum:

Me: "Ahhh, well, I asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner, but doesn't really want to"
Work: "Why?"
Me: "Because she doesn't want to miss the start of Big Brother".

What the fuck? Sure, I'll probably be sucked in by the whole Big Brother 'phenomenon' again and spend my days trawling BB gossip websites while I'm actually meant to be doing work. But it's not like we'd miss anything: the housemates will still all be fuckwits tomorrow. And rather than be taken out for a lavish dinner (read: pensioner roast of the day at the local), she'd much rather watch TV. No wonder why everyone at work just looked at me with that 'ahhh, that's where she gets it from' look.

It does, however, get better or worse, depending on your take of party hats. She decided to celebrate the return of BB by having a 'party' tea. For the uninitiated, this consists of mini quiche; mini spring rolls; party pies and sausage rolls. With a great big hyperactive-inducing dollop of tomato sauce. Now, I wasn't all together impressed by the idea, mainly because a) she cooked it - wouldn't let me do anything; b) we normally only bring out the 'party' teas for the return of Neighbours every January & c) we forgot the 'little boys'. (And no, my mother is not Michael Jackson, before you ask, I'm talking about cocktail frankfurts).

Oh yeah, and there were no party hats either. Colourful napkins, but no party hats. Bah. Not a real party then, hey?

However, I suppose it is mum's day after all, and she can choose to spend (and make us spend) it in whichever way she pleases. Happy Mother's Day, Mars Bar, love you lots & I'm really sorry about coming home drunk last night, then thinking it would be a good idea to write on your card. I hope you can read it. xx