I couldn’t think of a more deserving patron..

Exhausted mother of a toddler hospitalised this week.

To have a mighty Giving Machine before you which you can pretty much presume rarely stops. Now, slack jawed and still; silent and floppy of limb; in final acceptance of receipt, is quite something. Like the majestic Titanic descent beneath the surface (with less death and dismay), the clanging looms of an industrial-era textile factory finally shutting down, a trusty old Texan old rig squeaking it’s last. But I digress..

I almost find it upsetting how incredibly grateful mothers can be in response to the smallest of gestures communicating care, attention, recognition.

In my classes, treatments and retreats I want my Mums to feel as if the stadium lights have just fired up with their name emblazoned across the stage! A chorus of megaphones voicing heartfelt thanks from the global community (okay maybe that would be somewhat jarring. Make that a gospel choir). A Ryan Gosling caress to a weary forehead as Nat King Cole serenades a personal ode. A hand written note from Kim and Aggie who have sorted back home.

But at the very least I hope they leave with a smile feeling more relaxed knowing they have nudged their body and mind in the direction of self healing.

Mothering is relentlessly joyful, funny, humongously rewarding and life changing but it’s also relentlessly hard work. I see you Mama! Come rest a while.

(Some damson gin and copious salt and vinegar sticks may have been violently consumed, at speed, in the writing of this post. Happy weekend!)