A word to the hard-working mums out there . . .

Dear Mums, It’s been quite the ride these last few weeks and you’ve been, quite simply, incredible. You really have.

One day you’ve listened to the wee voice that tells you that you’ve completely stuffed it all up and the next you’re killing it with a cape on.

You’ve shown your tribe that there are many, many sides to their mumma, some of which are best not seen again.

If you’ve let yourself go a bit – who cares? On a good day, certainly not you. And turns out your family loves you even with muffin tops, hairy pits, regrowth, no makeup and multiple personalities.

You’ve parented your way through the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The initial panic and anxiety that kept you going has subsided into frustration and boredom and antsy-over-it-now.

Enough of this bubble, we’re ready to pop – much like our jeans.

Level 3 has taught us, amongst other things, that we’re now ready to send our kids back to school.

Any romantic notion around home schooling is well gone.

It’s right up there with Covid yellow, Level 3 and frozen milk.

And talk about conflicting messages around this one . . .

We were told, by experts, that the most important thing we could do during all this, was to stay calm, thus ensuring our kids felt safe and loved. If they wanna do schoolwork, do it. If they don’t, don’t.

We so wanted to believe these people. Such common sense. But Everyone Else held different opinions.

Add to this ‘‘compulsory’’, ‘‘due date’’ and young Jimmy’s overflowing gmail, whoa; we were in a world of pain.

Frustrations with technology and timetables may have shone a bit too bright.

Our wee Swots knuckled down, although we did have to timetable breaks.

The Nots have been painful and a whole lot of energy’s been wasted – reminding them of the consequences for doing it wrong, or not enough, or not doing a damn thing.

With a bit of luck, they’ve all learned more than just another 101 New and Exciting Ways to drop the ‘f’ bomb. Shameless bribery and corruption have abounded, and poor old Santa Claus can probably just give us a miss this year.

One saving grace was the inclusion of physical activity in the timetables. Les Mills looked like a great option there for Mum at least. Turns out its really, really hard.

Eight minutes was the time to beat here, eventually stretching out to a sweaty, collapsing, all round ugly, eighteen. Took the win and deleted the series link.

Anyway, here we are.

Another Mother’s Day on the horizon. You were enough. You always are. Even when you think you’re not and that someone else’d be way better at it than you.

You. Are. Enough. Sometimes you feel taken for granted, forgotten, and even lonely in all the chaos. But still you show up.

You rant, you rave, no bugger listens. And still you show up.

You see the good in the wee heart when no one else does.

Mums out there. You are loved.

Now put the little rats to work on Sunday like they never worked before!

You do deserve it. You are so worth it.

Kia Kaha beautiful.