Prior to the children’s arrival, I imagined Mother’s Day to be a rather jolly affair, where mummy got to sit around and do nothing all day, and the children would do as they were told, have smiles all day and nary a temper tantrum in sight. Oh, how foolish I was.
The day started off with a lie in for me, coffee and presents in bed. I received a selection of DVDs (Beetlejuice, The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and (based on the fact this was the first film I fancied Christian Bale in, when I was 12 I hasten to add) The Empire of the Sun). After yesterday’s success on the flower bed, I was determined to get it finished today and so bravely volunteered to take the children off to a garden centre to get some more plants, on the condition that they did as they were told and didn’t gambol over glass cold frames (which they have been known to do). All agreed and off we went. I will admit that plant buying isn’t the most exciting thing for two small children, especially as I get a little entranced by all the greenery and pretty flowers, and it takes me forever to make a decision about what to actually buy. The kids didn’t listen and charged about, picking up every bit of tat they could find, and surreptitiously placing them into the trolley, which I would then hoik out whilst muttering we’d go to B&M for tat, and not a fancy garden centre that knows how to charge. At one point, after telling the boy not to immerse himself into a water feature for the fourth time, I asked him if I was in fact speaking a foreign language, as he seemed not to be understanding me, and I noticed a middle aged gentleman (probably only a tad older than myself) staring at us. I wasn’t sure if this was in annoyance or admiration at my passive aggressive parenting style, but decided that it was time to pay up and head home.
Once home, I handed all responsibility for the kids to J, and ran off to the flower bed, unfortunately the children hadn’t noticed the handover and decided to follow me, and rant and moan that they were no longer allowed on ‘their patch’. I made up multiple jobs for them to do (mainly based around carrying rocks to the rock pile), which they also ignored, preferring ranting, moaning and basically throwing themselves about in a strop at the unfairness of it all. However, I too have ignoring skills, and plodded on with the gardening, pretending there weren’t two small people in a huff with me.
We bought a selection of plants, some bulbs that were knocked down as they are either about to flower or are in flower already, and some that should flower through summer. I’m hoping that we’ll have some colour in the garden, at least until the start of autumn. I also brought flowers that will reach varying heights, as it is a fairly decent sized patch and so I want it to look quite a hotch potch of heights, coverage and colour. So there isn’t really a colour scheme to it either. The taller plants have been strategically placed a little into the patch, so they are out of reach of the sheep on the other side of the fence.
The flowers we have in are: holly hock, echinacea, clematis, jasmine, pansies, viola, bluebells, hyacinths, heathers, poppies, tulips, snakes head fritillary, and hellebore.
There are others whose names I’ve forgotten, but let’s just say that, once it has all been in for a while and become established (sheep, children and slugs allowing) it should look pretty busy. Some of them (the holly hock in particular) should grow to a pretty decent size, and make it all look a lot less brown than it does at the minute. Whatever though, I’m pretty pleased with myself; I finally have a flower bed, and there is now just the vegetable patch to get finished (and then there’s some other areas that need a tidy, but they’re not so obvious, so who cares). All in all, not a bad Mother’s Day in the end.