Mothers of teenagers, I salute you

Mothers' Day isn't just about the fluffy bits

I wish Mothers’ Day, which is on Sunday in the UK, celebrated more of the unphotogenic parts of parenting too, like the acne and the rage, the slammed doors, the rolled eyeballs and hostile grunts. We tend to focus on the prettified version, the one where the children are small, rosy-cheeked, waiting quietly for their bedtime story in their old-fashioned pyjamas - gingham ones, with a sweet little collar (never Spiderman ones plus a fleece dressing gown that gives off static).

And yes, if you’re lucky there are lots of times like that in childhood - moments of charming and serene domesticity. But being a mother is not always about adorable things. Motherhood is also about grit, and I feel like we should celebrate the grit more. Sometimes being a fluffy pink cloud just doesn’t do it. You have to be granite. Well, granite and cloud. It’s really hard (and also soft).

The easy-to-love little children in their sweet pyjamas are not curfew-busting, throbbingly hormonal 15 year olds, carousing around London at 2am with their phone turned off, doing God knows what with God knows who, breezily unaware of their vulnerability. They’re not sitting smoking freakishly strong weed in the park with their mates. They haven’t puked all over the downstairs loo. Their rooms aren’t gross cesspits.