Mum's the Word
My mum isn’t a massive fan of this blog. She thinks she gets a bad rap a lot of the time. But more significantly, she gets upset that I constantly poke fun at myself, exposing some of the most difficult aspects of my life, touting my pain and struggles for a cheap laugh. This is what makes her a great mum. Even though I’m in my late 30s, she still worries about me. My pains are her pains, and sometimes I think she feels them far more acutely than I do.
In fact, I don’t think she realises that these ‘pains’ don’t really hurt me at all. That’s one of her many gifts to me. It’s ok to mock myself because, ultimately, I have complete faith in myself and my future. She’s taught me that I can overcome anything and achieve anything if I am determined enough. The example she has set by dedicating her life to her family and her career has shown me the value of hard work and dedication. And whilst I joke about the pains of being single, I know that being single does not mean I am alone; I could never feel alone in this family.
I’ve learnt far more tangible lessons from her too. One of my favourite, and earliest, childhood memories is of being curled up in my mother’s lap in a big, green seventies armchair as she taught me to read. Consequently, I could read before I began school, and throughout my early school years I had to visit classrooms of the pupils two years older than me to fetch my reading books. I have absolutely no doubt that she (with a little help from Enid Blyton perhaps) is the reason I eventually became an English teacher, and am now a writer. My love for words and books was born from a love of those sessions snuggled on her lap and those shared moments when I discovered the magic of language.
It wasn’t all angelic cuddles over ‘Janet and John’ books though. It’s certainly not an easy job being my mum. I’m the eldest of three, and have always been fiercely independent, strong-willed and pretty darn stubborn. I was the definitive tantrum child. I ran away regularly when I was very young because I couldn’t have my own way. Mum, on occasion, would help me pack. In doing so she imparted invaluable lessons on what was needed to make it in the wide world on your own (including plenty of pairs of clean underwear) and all these years later I feel I’ve finally listened.
So this one’s for you mum – and all the other women out there raising strong, passionate children who believe in themselves and their dreams. I’m setting the record straight. You may be obsessive about cleaning the house, you may not fully understand my reckless decision-making of the past few years, but you remain my pillar of strength and inspiration. The model of how to love, nurture and empower others. And I can’t thank you enough. Love you more. x
(U.S. Mother's Day: 8th May 2016)
