It’s an oft trotted out phrase isn’t it? “Oh my God! I’m MY MOTHER”. Not usually something that’s said in a positive light. Usually refers to when one starts tutting over swearing youths or asking exactly when people want to eat so you can plan when to start dinner.
In honour of Mothers’ Day, I’m going to acknowledge it – I AM TURNING INTO MY MOTHER. But! It’s OK. It’s really not at all bad. Because there’s plenty about my mum that’s awesome, so I’m fine with taking on a few of her traits.
So here we go – here’s how I seem to be slowly morphing into the matriarch of my family:
- I bloody love a tea shop. The thought of going into town and NOT stopping for tea and cake is, quite frankly, unthinkable. I recall many a shopping trip with mum as a teenager when it felt like every three shop-stops were punctuated by a request for tea. It was most certainly not on my agenda at the time as my main purpose of the trip was to get mum to buy me something – and not just tea. But now, I’m all over a pot of tea and a slice of lemon cake. And, if it’s with my mum, all the better.
- I can be difficult to please. Growing up, it was a given in my family that no matter what we were doing – be it dining out, in a hotel, or on a day trip – everything was lovely apart from one thing (where my mum was concerned). It became the butt of many a joke that we would sit down for a nice meal and comment on how lovely everything looked, and mum would nod and agree before a short pause and then… “The only thing is…..” which would be followed by “it’s a bit close to the toilet/front door/waitress station/speakers.” Oh how we would all roll our eyes and poke fun! Well, I get it now Mum. When you’re paying for a nice experience, and you don’t get to do it very often, it IS really annoying when things aren’t perfect. My husband braces himself these days when we go for a meal. Recently, we went to a local Moroccan restaurant and could BARELY HEAR EACH OTHER OVER THE MEGA LOUD (INAPPROPRIATE) HOUSE MUSIC PUMPING OUT OF THE SPEAKERS. Husband = nonplussed. But he sat there looking at me as I started tutting and frowning, just WAITING for me to say something. Just like I used to do with my mum.
- Paperwork ends up in the weirdest places. Mum and Dad ran their own business for years, and have always been bombarded by paperwork. Sure, there are filing cabinets, which always seemed well stocked, but occasionally I’d go to lay the table at their house and will find a forgotten building society statement in with the placemats. I found it baffling until, one day, I understood. For ages, I couldn’t find the paper part of my driving license. It was eventually located in a basket in the bathroom when I went to get a new shampoo out. My husband still brings it up (he is an accountant and lover of order). I must have realised I was holding it when I went into the bathroom one day and just kind of popped it in there. My mind was, as usual, probably elsewhere, humming away to a tune that cared not about paper driving licenses.
Mum – I hope you take all the above with your usual humour and not think that I’m taking the piss (I know I do that a bit). You are funny, kind, generous, emotionally intelligent, beautiful, outspoken and loving. Thank you for being my Mum xxxx