A while back I wrote a post about taking my boys ice-skating and how much they enjoyed it and how much I hated it. That post really struck a chord with that lovely Hong Kong blogger, Bloomin Marvelous, who wrote a post about how we don't really appreciate what our mothers did for us until we become mothers ourselves. She has a point. I had no idea how often my Mum had been up during the night, cleaned up vile smelling substances, counted to ten in her head before tackling some dreadful behaviour, stood freezing in thigh deep Arctic waters willing us to learn how to swim, until I had to do it all myself.
Bloomin Marvelous also tagged me in her Gratitude Tag to write a bit about my mother, to celebrate her and say why she is so amazing. And in the run up to Mother's Day I thought I should finally take her up on it. For much as Mother's Day is all about me in this household, it is a chance to say thanks to my Mum and sorry that I won't be there this year to join you all. Next year, I promise.
Both Mum and Dad had, shall we say, less than conventional upbringings. But somehow, they have created a really strong, close family. I can't underestimate how difficult this must have been. Everyone says that you will replicate the mistakes of your parents, but Mum didn't. She made her own decisions and created her own path and my brothers and I have been the incredibly fortunate beneficiaries of that. There was nothing that she wouldn't do for us growing up. She was always there, listening, helping, teaching. We moved about a bit, lived in other countries but Mum didn't falter. She went to another culture and carried on, creating and nuturing her family, whatever the differences and difficulties that the outside world had to throw at her. Now I am living in another culture I know how difficult that is. She did an amazing job.
She wasn't afraid to buck the system. Taking my brother and I out of school for a month because we had an opportunity to go to Africa. The school weren't happy, Mum said 'stuff them'. I remember more from that trip today than from all the rest of my primary school days put together. It was the right decision.
She's glamorous too, my Mum. I mean, she looks amazing. She has great style, I'm envious of her clothes. She's too small for me to borrow many of her clothes but if I could, I would. She is the most likely person to tell me of a new clothes shop find, or an amazing shoe shop. Most people are worried if they dress like their mothers. Me? Well I'm just thrilled if I manage to pull off that look.
Now I'm an adult. Well, there is noone else who will listen to me whitter on about my children for hours on end and still sound interested at the end of it all. No one else will sit for hours looking at different clothes on websites talking about what will suit me and when will I wear it. I'm incredibly lucky, my mother is amazing. If I can do half as good a job as her then I will be so proud with what I have achieved.
So Mum, Happy Mother's Day and I don't have the words to say how much I love you. Thank you for everything.
I offer this tag up to anyone that wants to take it up, but in particular, if they fancy it:
A Modern Dilemma
London City Mum
Mid Atlantic English
Single Parenthood, Tales from the Frontline
Notes from Lapland
Showing posts with label mothers day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mothers day. Show all posts
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Sunday, 22 March 2009
Happy Mothers Day
Today is Mothering Sunday in the UK. This took us by surprise, without the prompting of retailers we didn’t have a clue it was coming. So no cards, breakfast in bed or flowers for me. I don’t mind, Dave has taken the whole lot out for the morning allowing me a few precious hours to myself to do what I want to do. That is bliss beyond comprehension, just a few hours to not have to wipe a bottom, separate a mass brawl or have my ear drums assaulted by a squawking recorder is really special.
There is a Mothers Day competition being run by a British Company MamaBabybliss, which has challenged mothers to write about their ‘me’ time, how they pamper themselves. Apparently 93.6% mothers long for more time to themselves.
How I identify with this. But, I do find it wildly annoying that everyone presumes that when I get half an hour to myself what I really want to do is to lie in a perfumed bath having a manicure. That's not to say I don't love a long hot soak with a good book, I do, but I can do it with the kids in my life. In the evenings, once everyone is in bed there is a whole load of stuff that I can do. I can have a glass of wine. I can go out to a restaurant with a friend. I can read a book. I don’t have enough time to do it as often as I would like, but I can do it, particularly when I decide not to care that the house looks as if a bomb has hit it.
No, what I miss, and what I really long for is the stuff that I can’t do any more. I long to ski really fast, just edging towards being out of control, down an exposed mountainside, wind and cold biting and fingers turning white. I miss the feeling of being really fit and going out for a run on a beautifully crisp day and having one of those days where it all just clicks, the legs feel great and I can luxuriate in the feeling that my whole body is just as it should be, my muscles working just so. I also miss going out for the day with no fixed plan and just seeing where we end up, spontaneity leading us to places we would never normally go and getting lost and not being able to find somewhere to stay and being starving before all is resolved and we have a story to enter the family history books.
But, given that a weekend on the Sarajevo ski slopes is out of the question, I’m not fit enough to go for an enjoyable run and spontaneity always leads to me not having enough nappies and grizzly children in the back of the car, I've settled for listening to The Archers Omnibus followed by Desert Island Discs on IPlayer, and you know what, it is a very pleasant way to spend my Sunday morning. I’ll save my long hot soak for this evening when I’ll be one blissed out Mummy.
****** UPDATE******
The boys and Dave came back from their walk shortly after I'd posted this post. They burst in full of pride and excitement and clutched in their hot little hands were a bunch of plastic flowers, a Beethoven CD full of Mozart's music and the Wall-E DVD. The best that Tuzla had to offer at short notice. I am genuinely thrilled. All the adreline inducing ski runs in the world don't match up to my plastic bunch of roses presented by two beaming little faces.
There is a Mothers Day competition being run by a British Company MamaBabybliss, which has challenged mothers to write about their ‘me’ time, how they pamper themselves. Apparently 93.6% mothers long for more time to themselves.
How I identify with this. But, I do find it wildly annoying that everyone presumes that when I get half an hour to myself what I really want to do is to lie in a perfumed bath having a manicure. That's not to say I don't love a long hot soak with a good book, I do, but I can do it with the kids in my life. In the evenings, once everyone is in bed there is a whole load of stuff that I can do. I can have a glass of wine. I can go out to a restaurant with a friend. I can read a book. I don’t have enough time to do it as often as I would like, but I can do it, particularly when I decide not to care that the house looks as if a bomb has hit it.
No, what I miss, and what I really long for is the stuff that I can’t do any more. I long to ski really fast, just edging towards being out of control, down an exposed mountainside, wind and cold biting and fingers turning white. I miss the feeling of being really fit and going out for a run on a beautifully crisp day and having one of those days where it all just clicks, the legs feel great and I can luxuriate in the feeling that my whole body is just as it should be, my muscles working just so. I also miss going out for the day with no fixed plan and just seeing where we end up, spontaneity leading us to places we would never normally go and getting lost and not being able to find somewhere to stay and being starving before all is resolved and we have a story to enter the family history books.
But, given that a weekend on the Sarajevo ski slopes is out of the question, I’m not fit enough to go for an enjoyable run and spontaneity always leads to me not having enough nappies and grizzly children in the back of the car, I've settled for listening to The Archers Omnibus followed by Desert Island Discs on IPlayer, and you know what, it is a very pleasant way to spend my Sunday morning. I’ll save my long hot soak for this evening when I’ll be one blissed out Mummy.
****** UPDATE******
The boys and Dave came back from their walk shortly after I'd posted this post. They burst in full of pride and excitement and clutched in their hot little hands were a bunch of plastic flowers, a Beethoven CD full of Mozart's music and the Wall-E DVD. The best that Tuzla had to offer at short notice. I am genuinely thrilled. All the adreline inducing ski runs in the world don't match up to my plastic bunch of roses presented by two beaming little faces.
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