In praise of Mum

So the cliche is true: you only really appreciate your mother once you become a mother yourself. I realised this the other morning, during the night feed, when my mind was still fuzzy and addled. Not only would my mum have done all this (twice) but she probably didn’t have as much help from her husband as I do – my dad was not a hands-on father, as I think I’ve mentioned before.

Friends this week said the same sort of thing. Whatever you say about your mum, you must realise E will say about you in a few years’ time. Panic sets in. Time to remedy this and set a good example.

So here’s to Mum.

My mum, who looks after my nephew at the drop of a hat and would do the same for E if we lived closer.

My mum, who taught me how to cook.

My mum, who phones me religiously every Sunday morning, and often tells me the same thing two weeks in a row.

My mum, who lives in a house that drives me mad, yet always gives up her bed for me when I visit. (So I can avoid the cat hairs…)

My mum, who has disapproved of several of my boyfriends in the past but never lectured me about them.

My mum, who encourages me whenever I send her things to read that I’ve written, no matter how dreadful they are.

My mum, who doesn’t mind that I call her an old crone as a term of affection.

My mum, who came with me to an elbow gig and didn’t mind arriving early to stand at the front despite having a bad back.

My mum, who once stopped a London bus because I was so upset that I’d left my invisible friend on it. (The invisible friend in question was a boy called Joanne – no, I don’t know either…) She retrieved Joanne and we carried on our way.

My mum, whose house is open to friends of mine and my sister’s to pop in for a cup of tea.

My mum, who as I type is probably knitting something great for E to wear.

My mum, who saves sewing patterns from her magazine subscription and posts them to me every month.

My mum, who I think was probably very lonely in her marriage yet wouldn’t regret it because it gave her me and my sister.

My mum, who was there to give me a massive hug when I dissolved in tears after losing the first baby.

My mum, who read Rapunzel and Beaky the Greedy Duck to me as a child over and over again till she was sick to death of them.

My mum, who took herself back to college in her late forties/ early fifties to tread a new path.

It occurs to me that I always greet her with a kiss on the cheek when I see her and that I haven’t given her a big hug for ages. This will be rectified as soon as I can.

Cheers, Ma. xx

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One Response to In praise of Mum

  1. Polly Butterworth says:

    Your mum who is catching up on past blogs & has just cried her way through this one! X

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