We (womankind) would like you to really consider what we Mums endure as the pro-creator, and want you (on behalf of our ankle biters) to reward us accordingly. After all it’s only fair.

A wonderful Mother’s Day for us would go something like this”¦”¦.

You must:

Wake up at 4am in the morning enduring morning sickness, and not being able to stand the smell of coffee. Move on to going to the toilet about 20 times per hour, and realise that you, all of a sudden, have haemorrhoids. Big ones. Painful ones. The morning has passed, and you have gained 30kg and can’t see your feet. You’re puffy and everyone touches your belly and tell you you look MASSIVE.

Go through hours of agony and onto to pushing a watermelon out of cherry tomato.

When your cherry has popped, enjoy your sweet bundle screaming blue murder whilst your nipples feel like they have been scrubbed with a scourer.

Get dressed in your best outfit only to be vomited on a few times. Sit down to lunch you have taken hours to prepare, but don’t get to eat!

Revenge would be sweet. But in all seriousness. Every single year I really do look forward to the burnt pieces of toast and a cold cup of tea that the kidlets present to me in bed at 5am. I try and overlook the crumbs in the bed and mound of sugar in the bottom of the cup.

I adore their handmade presents that they brought home from school on Friday and have hidden under their bed all weekend. I will often wear (at home) the beautifully hand coloured macaroni necklace in primary green.

And I forget how much hard work they were when they were littler.

Parenting is hard, but tooth-deficit grins make it worth it.

So go rub our feet and make us feel pretty.

Because fellas remember, FATHERS DAY is only four months away and we have memories like elephants!