Mother's Day has never been about big gestures

School holidays are approaching, with Easter tucked in the middle. We're heading up to Nelson to see Mum (Grandma).

I always feel a little nostalgic going home. Funny how I still call it that, even though I haven’t lived there for 30+ years. I guess it’s the pull of where I was formed—my tūrangawaewae.

 

As a maker of ceramics and small business owner, I’m often told that Mother’s Day is a “big occasion” to plan for and push for sales. That’s never sat easy with me, and lately I’ve been trying to unpick why.

 

While it won’t be Mother’s Day while I’m home in Nelson, I’ll be cherishing the time we spend together.

 

Mother’s Day was never a grand thing in our house. It was gently observed.

My brother and I would make breakfast in bed—nothing fancy, just homemade marmalade on toast and a cup of hot water (in an Arcoroc mug—iykyk), usually with a little flower picked from the garden tucked into a vase.

We’d spend the day together as a family—maybe a Sunday drive, a walk, and an ice cream

 

Now I’m a mum myself, and we still don’t make a big fuss. But my two boys make breakfast in bed for me (they’re fancier than I was—waffles or pancakes!) and, most importantly, a mug of coffee... or two.

We go for a walk. Maybe grab an ice cream.

Simple pleasures—connection and time.

 

For me, the best gifts aren’t flashy. They’re the ones that slip quietly into your days, making small moments special.

Like a flower frog for those tiny handpicked flowers.

A tumbler for slow morning coffee.

A garlic-ginger grater for a warming mug of ginger tea at the end of a long day.

Small, beautiful, and made to be treasured.

Handmade. Thoughtful. Local.

And if you’re feeling the pressure to buy?

Please don’t.

Mum won’t care.

She’ll remember the toast, the handpicked flower, and the time spent together.