Fête des Mères? It’s a double date (five times over)! | Gillian Harvey

SEVEN years ago, when I wondered if I would ever be a mother at all, Mother’s Day was a painful reminder of everything I did not have.

Fast-forward to 2016, and not only do I have an abundance of children – five, all six years and under – but I also have an abundance of opportunities to celebrate that fact.

Like my waistband, my cup runneth over.

But with the British ‘Mother’s Day’ taking place on the fourth Sunday of Lent and the French Fête des Mères usually falling on the final Sunday in May (this year, Sunday 29), I – like many other expat mums – am left with a dilemma: which should I celebrate, and why?

Although a few friends capitalise on these “double dates” – proudly displaying pictures of gifts and cards online in both March and May – I decided it was a bit decadent to expect the red carpet to be rolled out biannually.

“No, no, don’t make a fuss,” I virtuously insisted when my hubby, Ray, asked what I wanted in March. Instead I elected to make like a French mum and celebrate in May – but I admit that I always felt a secret pang of disappointment he did not decide to do something anyway. (As a woman, I reserve the right to be contrary).

However, alongside my (mostly suppressed) secret jealousy when a friend posted a picture of a perfect present or posy in March, waiting until the French date posed a few problems.

First of all, I found myself forgetting that I too have a mother, and she would be expecting an acknowledgement of that fact on the traditional British Mothering Sunday.

Secondly, as Ray (more accustomed to the British calendar) then forgot the French date altogether, he had two Sundays’ worth of passive aggression a year (minimum).

So while I originally thought it was greedy to double up my Mother’s Days, perhaps the fact that I have squeezed out five bébés in six years does make this an exceptional case…

And purely for the sake of others – to protect my husband from the horror of forgetting, and my own mum for the meanness of my unintentional neglect – perhaps I ought to join the mass of double-daters and allow myself to be pampered twice. After all, it seems the selfless thing to do.

Well, mums, what do you do: Double up or choose one?
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