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© 2017 Frances Carleton and The Secret Keeper. Happily and easily created with Wix.com

Let’s talk about Mums.

They are great. Well most of them are. Some fail their children, just as some excel. Some are not around anymore.

This is why I dislike Mother’s Day. It’s a great reminder in both good and bad ways.


Yesterday I heard an advert for Prouds the Jeweller. It went something like:

‘She knows you best, she loves you, she’ll always answer the phone to you, she’s always there for you’.


At that point I stopped hearing because the tears had started to flow.


I lost my Muv to lung cancer over a decade ago. She died at the age of 55 after a brief battle with the cancer that metastasized to her bone marrow. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about her, and I have written many a poem about her and our relationship. I was very lucky I had a wonderful, but far too short a time with my Muv.


Not everyone is so lucky. Their relationship may have been trying, fraught with trauma and drama. There was and is no love returned. These mother’s may have tried their best at the time, sadly it wasn’t good enough for their child.


On the flip side there are those that are still here, hitting balls out the park with bake sales, tending to grandchildren, being confidant, declarations of love and still managing to have a sense of style.

Mother’s Day should be something celebrated everyday if you’re lucky to have one and still be on good terms. A once a year celebration of all things Mother is ridiculous. Spend money on her, make her breakfast in bed, take her somewhere special…how about we celebrate Mum at random times of the year. Let’s celebrate Mothers all year round.


With everyday celebrations no one gets tortured with all the bullsh*t commercials selling rubbish Mums don’t need or want, they probably just want you to pick up the phone when they call…or like some of us, to see her name when the phone rings.

Cradle to grave

Muv is dead.

I was at dinner; three thousand and five hundred miles away.

I finally understood her pain of my life far away:

‘the umbilical cord doesn’t stretch that far’.

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