Twenty something year old doing twenty something year old things

 The day of mothering is upon us and thus this great stupendous morn' I set forth to collate all my memories, thoughts and words on my own dear mother into a blog post: a virtual hug if ever there was one and a tall order, for she is taller and more virtuous than could ever be put into words.  Today, like many of us, I am not able to be with her; restricted by an invisible force, I make do by calling, Whatsapp-ing, blogging and (because it's not all about the tinternet) card-ing. I spoke to her last night on the phone and, because of the selfless being that she is, she was preparing items that could be 'sent up to me'. Surely this is the wrong way around? In this list there were seedlings, pots, clothes and vegetables ("I'll put some manure in too").  She is a nurturer of every plant and human that is lucky enough to come within her radius with an after-glow felt far beyond the 5km. The mind-blowing fact of course is that my mother is not where it all beg

 Kids sense of time is unique. Minding child A and child B yesterday I was surrounded by their rogue estimations of how long it would take to reach various desirable locations (namely 'the green', 'the park' and--most importantly--'the shop') each they assured me were, at most,  "two minutes away" (Fifteen minutes and counting). I was satiated however by a brownie which Child A easily convinced me into buying once we reached one of these locations. It was to be a secret, I warned her, and best if she did not tell her mother or her brother about the pre-dinner death by chocolate. I am in cahoots with a 9 year old: the adult who can resist everything except temptation.  Temptation seems the operative word of this lockdown 3. One worrying temptation is that of looking at my own face during zoom meetings. Despite the colourful checkerboard of interesting faces to lock eyes on, I am consistently drawn to my own. Never before has my own face been so familiar