On Mother’s Day, Leena Martin will sing a serenade outside her mother’s house in Edinburgh, accompanied by her three young children playing their xylophone, violin and french horn. The family have always had lunch together on Mother’s Day but this year, Martin’s 73-year-old mother is self-isolating and plans had to change. “I wasn’t going to not see my mother on Mothering Sunday,” said Martin. “We had to do something and the cross-generational aspect of the Mothering Sunday is part of the joy I don’t want any of us to miss. Queen of puddings: Anna Jones" Mother"s Day recipes Read more “The children’s instruments – and my singing voice – don’t naturally fit together in a trio but we’ve worked together, improvising a piece for their grandmother over the past week.” Martin’s children are six, eight and 11. “I confidently expect chaos,” she said. “The kids will probably trample on all Mum’s lovely spring flowers in their excitement and get mud all over their instruments, but at least it will be a fun event for her to watch out of her window. Advertisement “My husband is going to video it too so mum can rewatch the hilarious chaos in the months coming up.” Martin is not alone. Families across the country are finding innovative ways to spend Mother’s Day together even if they’re forced to be apart. Maria Lawrence and her adult son, Leo, will share their Mother’s Day meal in York via Skype. Abioye Achebe will act as proxy son to his neighbour, Edith O’Sullivan, by eating lunch together on different sides of their garden fence in east London, and Alys Thomas will have a picnic with her husband and children outside the window of her mother’s care home in Leeds. Lawrence is self-isolating so her son will deliver a home-cooked lunch to her doorstep on Sunday morning. He has prepared the same meal for himself, and mother and son will eat at 1pm exactly, sharing the experience on Skype. She said: “Leo will put his iPad, streaming Skype, facing him on the dining table and I’ll do the same in my little flat. It’ll almost be like I’m really there with him, albeit it as a strange, virtual guest. We’ll heat up our lunch at the same time, so we’ll be eating the same food at the same time. It’s as close to breaking bread together as we can get at the moment.” Coronavirus: the week explained - sign up for our email newsletter Read more Achebe’s mother died five years ago, but on Sunday he will act as a proxy son to his neighbour Edith, who is self-isolating and so unable to travel to see her own son in Brighton. “I don’t have any symptoms of the virus yet,” said Edith. “So if I wrap up warmly, Abioye and I can have a nice lunch together sitting on opposite sides of our garden fence. Fortunately it’s a wire fence, so we can see each other through it. “Abioye has always been a friendly neighbour but when he asked what I was doing for Mothering Sunday and suggested we have lunch together in the garden, separated by the fence, I was so touched that, to be honest, I will think of him as a proxy son going forward. “I’m not so crass as to say that opportunities can come out of this crisis, but equally we should be alive to the fact that some people are showing themselves to be kinder and more generous than we ever knew they were.” Share your story Share your stories If you have been affected or have any information, we"d like to hear from you. You can get in touch by filling in the form below, anonymously if you wish or contact us via WhatsApp by clicking here or adding the contact +44(0)7867825056. Only the Guardian can see your contributions and one of our journalists may contact you to discuss further. Tell us Not all mothers, however, will have a family to give them cheer. Rebecca John’s adult son and daughter are both self-isolating and feel so ill they have told their mother they do not think they will be able to manage more than a quick call on the day. “Whether I have a nice family lunch or not on Mothering Sunday pales into insignificance compared to the health of my children, but it’ll be a sad day on Sunday for us all,” said John. “It’ll be the first Mothering Sunday we haven’t spent together. Instead, I’ll spend it alone and worried. I guess this is the new reality for the time being. I can’t say I think very much of it.”