🌷Painted Tulips & Tea Bags — The Kind of Mother’s Day Gift I’ll Never Forget

🌷 Painted Tulips, Teabags & The Kind of Mother’s Day That Actually Matters

I came across one of those little treasures the other day. The kind you forget you’ve kept, but instantly takes you back in time the very moment you hold it.

A handmade Mother’s Day card from my eldest son, back when he was in nursery, all painted fingerprints and proud smudges. Tulips across the front, made from folk imprints and poster paint. The petals aren’t quite petal-shaped, and yet… it’s perfect. More perfect than any bouquet delivered in a chic box.

Inside?

“Happy Mother’s Day Mummy” written in the sweetest, brand new handwriting. Big, careful letters, spaced unevenly, some of them backwards, but all of them full of effort. You could almost see him concentrating, tongue out, brow furrowed. That was his love on paper.

And with it, a little gift that was wrapped in tissue: a few teabags tied with string and a homemade label that also had a beautiful message attached. 

Simple. Thoughtful. Completely priceless.

I remember opening it on Mother’s Day at the time and feeling that tiny ache in my chest. Not because I was overly emotional, but because it was so pure. He was so proud and excited to give me the card and present. There was no price tag, no big production. Just a handmade card, a couple of teabags, and all the heart in the world.

Where has that gone?

Somewhere along the way, things shift. Kids get older, and suddenly the world tells them that love is shown through spending all of their money and not by making. That Mother’s Day needs to come with Instagrammable gifts and receipts long enough to wrap twice around the dining table.

But if I’m being honest? Give me the poster paint-folk printed tulip version of Mother’s day each year! Because those are the cards you keep. The ones you find a decade later, tucked away in a treasure box, that still make you smile from your entire heart. The ones that don’t come from shops or trends, they come from little hands, that don’t stop growing and real time, with pure intentions. 

There’s a kind of magic in those early years. Not just in how the kids see you – superhero like,  larger than life, always there, always deserving, but in how they show it. It’s not filtered through marketing or expectations. It’s just genuine love and appreciation. Straightforward and unedited.

And I suppose that’s what I want to hold onto, not just the card itself, but the feelings behind it. The smallness of it, the softness of those days. Because I blinked, and now he’s got bigger feet than me. He rolls his eyes at glitter and calls me ‘an embarrassing mum!’ When once, I was a ‘superhero mummy.’ He now kind of writes neatly and never backwards. He doesn’t hand me things with string and stickers anymore, he sends WhatsApp messages and asks for lifts to the town centre.

I’m glad I kept this card, and all of the other ones he made too. I’m glad I drank that tea.

Two for tea 

Tea for two

One for me

And one for you! 

I’m more glad that I took the moment to remember the version of us that existed back then.

Because Mother’s Day isn’t about what you get, or request from the shops. It’s about what you see and feel. Whenever I look at these handmade cards, I see everything.

Even though I know his handmade card days are over, I still try to remind him, it’s not about spending big or heading to the shops in a panic. It’s about giving with your heart, with thought and pure intention.

A cup of tea in bed.
A lay-in without interruptions.
A kind word written down, even if it’s just a note on the back of a receipt.

A small sweet treat baked by him. 

That’s the kind of love I want him and his siblings to carry forward. That’s the kind of love I want them all to understand. Because it’s not just about me, it’s about the values it teaches them.