For the record, we do not do Mother's Day chez Mace.
Today this blog is a schmaltz free zone.

I spent my formative years with my own mother... and my mother does Mothers' Day Big time. No really Big Time. The cards have to be big enough, the presents expensive enough.
That's right cards and presents, one from each child. Or else... or else there is a Wall of Sulk.

Luckily said children could share on cooking the meal, or taking her out. Tsk, even my mother would have trouble eating two breakfasts in bed.

I digress. Let's just say, as a result of years of grief over a manufactured day of schmaltz, the Cherub has strict orders as to both the card (homemade), and the present (cost = nil).

To be honest, most years the Cherub's Mother's Day present to me is simply to accompany me to my mothers. Since, obviously, being a grandmother doesn't mean you don't get a Mothers' Day card (big) and Mothers Day present (expensive).

This year, though my mother is on holiday.

Can you improve on a bunch of daffs (wrapped in newspaper) and an afternoon tea at the local overpriced farm cafe?
Maybe a photo?

No. Nearly a perfect day then.