Being a mother is a thankless task and I know that because I have a mother and I've never really said thank you to her at all.
I've said thank you for the little things of course, for daily interactions and presents and the unexpected good things that mothers do for you when you least expect it. Of course I have because, well, she brought me up to. Obviously.
But what I haven't thanked her for is making me the person I am. And even though she might roll her eyes and wonder where she went wrong, I think she did a damn fine job to be honest. My mum gave and taught me many things, and not all of them were intentional.
|26.12.1963 - Mum and Dad's wedding day|
She gave me my love of music. When I was young the little black discs of Elvis Presley and Cliff Richard that she had collected as a teenager were little gems of happiness and to be allowed to play them on the Dansette record player was an honour and a treat. Dancing? She gave me an appreciation and joy for that too. And it wasn't taking me to Janice Reagan's ballet class for the under fours oh no, but the family parties where my mum and dad would do the jive. They used to clear the dance floor, but only because everyone wanted to watch.
It was my mum who gave me my appreciation of writing and my love of books. She taught me to read before I went to school and later had the foresight to work in a library thereby opened up a whole world where every single book I might ever want to read was obtainable and reachable and, shh, you never had to pay a fine.
And she gave me her suede mini-skirt. A genuine sixties patchwork suede mini-skirt that I wore when I was a student in the early eighties and for that, for reasons manifold and best not explained, I owe her and for my love of vintage fashion and *waits for Mother to roll her eyes again* mini-skirts.
She gave me my appreciation of the family that made me and the history we share. She taught me about loyalty and strength. She taught me, probably without noticing, everything there is to know about love.
She even taught me that it doesn't matter how many times you've been seen swaying down the street singing after a dinner dance OR fallen over in improbable platforms in a Devon car-park after some Scrumpy OR worn a mini-skirt that is LITTLE MORE THAN A BELT, you can still claim the moral high-ground when your own children do similar.
*Raises eyebrows at Mother*
Anyway, for ALL of that, I thank her. Deeply and very much.
Happy 70th birthday Mum x
|Mum and Dad now|