All Mothers are working Mothers

Mothering Sunday today.

And being the model son that I am, I gave my Mum an early morning ring to wish her well on this lovely day.

Upon enquiring about her plans, Dad told me she was spending the morning in work catching up on some pressing business. I guess my card was right. She really was the world's number one Mum.

All Mothers are working mothers, as the saying goes.

Except for one day of the year, that is. Today. And don't they let you know all about it. All day.

The boys also treated Ellen.

Ben made her a nice card at nursery, which took pride of place on the mantlepiece. Ciaran co-contributed, with his brother, to the purchase of a generously-sized card, which also took pride of a different place on the mantlepiece.

Meanwhile, just to make Ellen feel extra special, I slaved all morning in the kitchen treating her to a homemade Sunday roast.

I spent ages preparing the chicken, marinating it evenly in olive oil, sprinkling over sea salt and thyme from the garden, and then adding my marinade of garlic, butter and lemon juice.

I served it with red onions, carrots, stuffing balls, yorkshire pudding, broccoli, peas and gravy and followed it up with some non-homemade Key Lime pie for pudding.

It all went down rather well.

Come the end of the day, I think it's fair to say the pampered Ellen was feeling just a tad more energetic than I was.

Bring on Father's Day.