Until recently, Mother's Day was all about my mum; my mother, my brother and I always had a big dinner, for which she'd spent a couple of hours or more preparing. We would have bought expensive gifts, none of which she liked unless it was either something which massaged a body part, or cash.
In the last couple of years, the day has been celebrated separately by all of us; my brother and his family did Mother's Day in their home, my mother celebrated at her church, and all I had to do was buy a nice card and put some cash in it.
Now that I'm mere months away from being a mother myself, I found myself wistfully thinking that this time next year I'd be getting The Boy's equivalent of breakfast in bed (whatever that's going to be).
So I was a bit surprised when the boy jumped the gun somewhat, and asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day yesterday. We were strolling around the museum shop fingering the possum-mink jumpers and eyeing up the greenstone jewellery and fabulous art pottery at the time. I couldn't bring myself to point to any of those items because they were really really expensive (there's a greenstone thingamajig for over 16 grand in there). I told him to buy me a cake instead, but here's the thing - what the hell am I going to ask for next year?
Hmmm...probably a paid cleaner.