My beautiful mum is getting old and frail. She's eighty one this year which I think is wonderful, but she's losing her memory. She's living in the past and wants to move back to where she lived with my Dad. I'm sad because I can't make her feel better or younger, I can't return her short term memory or her youth. All I can do is love her, which I do whole heartedly. I know I've mentioned her in passing before but today I need to talk about this crazy, wonderful, exasperating woman... MY MUM.
I actually don't know where to begin. I know I've talked about my Dad a lot but my Mum has been equally important in my life in a different way. Each parent has a different role to play in your life, and as I've said before, in many ways I was closer to my dad than I was my mum. This was partly due to the fact I was always in trouble for something; arguing with my sister I think. She was a typical older sibling and very sly with her being mean tactics. Being younger I would retaliate angrily and loudly, therefore getting into trouble.
But I did spend time with my mum that my sister didn't; she was outside with her horses so was exempt form household chores and helping mum. I think she missed out because I spent hours with mum in the kitchen helping her bake and cook. I loved it. Weekends and holiday baking was my favourite time because mum had more time to spare when she wasn't working. So we would bake biscuits and cakes, drop scones and regular scones. Prepare casseroles and poach salmon. Of course I had to wash up and help clean the kitchen afterwards but I would get a freshly baked biscuit that would melt in my mouth, the warm flavour oozing out through that crispy exterior to a squidgy middle. And on a Sunday we would make baked soufflé to eat in front of the TV covered in strawberry jam, soft and fluffy like a cloud. So good.
Mum was also a good seamstress and embroiderer, so whilst I wasn't particularly interested in sewing I did love cross stitch; we would sit together while mum was making something and she would teach me how to embroider and correct my mistakes. Always patient, I think she was glad of my company as my sister was always out riding or with animals, never family orientated in the same way I was. And while you're sitting there you chat, I can't remember what about but I do remember that mum had a great sense of humour and was very quick to giggle. In fact, she would normally be the first person to starting giggling at a most inappropriate time, head down, shoulders shaking, unable to meet anyones' eye. Dad was always the quiet sensible one. The one you didn't want to be told off by. Mum would be loud and angry but it passed in an instant, never the silent disapproval that Dad could maintain for a day or two. Mum was the one who was quick to hug and heal, to tell you that everything would be ok.
Then there was her musical side. Different from Dad who loved music but couldn't play an instrument. I remember falling asleep listening to mum playing the piano. Such a beautiful memory, I loved listening to her play, she was so talented. Mum was, when I was a child, definitely the softer, more creative parent. The one who recognised my need to draw and read, to sing and feel the sunshine in every day. Dad was the academic, who expected me to work hard at school and get good grades; and because I loved him so much, that's what I tried to do. He softened as he became a grandfather, finally relaxing and knowing that he had done a good job as a father and now it was time to enjoy life a bit more. But mum, she loved life, always a worrier but still enjoyed her life. If I couldn't do my maths homework then she would explain to dad that I'd tried, I was just better at a English and the arts. Maths and sciences where never easy for me.
Then when I had Ben and Bex mum took such pleasure in these two small people, again teaching them to cook. Ben's fist cookery lesson at three years old was 'strangled dregs' on toast, cooked on the Aga whilst standing on the dog so he could reach the stove top (Sometimes he would use a stool but if Fudge was available he was always first choice). And of course she taught them both to do cross stitch and sew. Ben was particularly good at cross stitch whereas Bex seemed to enjoy sewing more. Hours spent with them sitting with her either cooking or sewing; playing scrabble or anagrams as they got older. Mum would happily stop what she was doing to join us playing board games, those two being our firm favourites though.
I'm pretty sure it was my mum who encouraged them to drink the cereal milk from their bowls, who told them that ice cream was a perfectly healthy breakfast, and that you could wipe your hands on the dog. All things she has vehemently denied on a regular basis!
It was my mum who I cried for when I had pneumonia three times, who Ben had to phone after the cat scratched his head, who Bex wanted when she took her nebuliser. Simply because mum/grandma could make everything better. She was the one who used to kiss me better and now it's my turn to do the same for her. I can't give her her youth back or return her memory but I can shower her with love and kisses. I can help make sure her life is as comfortable as possible.
I miss the mum I used to have but I still love her with all of my heart and will do absolutely anything for her. I shall cherish her in her old age as she cherished me throughout my life. I will look after her as my father would want me to. I shall love this older version of my lovely, beautiful, funny mum. The mum who made me giggle when I shouldn't, who let me lick the cake mix from the bowl, and was there for me everyday as I grew older. I shall love her as she deserves to be loved.
I love you Mum.
I actually don't know where to begin. I know I've talked about my Dad a lot but my Mum has been equally important in my life in a different way. Each parent has a different role to play in your life, and as I've said before, in many ways I was closer to my dad than I was my mum. This was partly due to the fact I was always in trouble for something; arguing with my sister I think. She was a typical older sibling and very sly with her being mean tactics. Being younger I would retaliate angrily and loudly, therefore getting into trouble.
But I did spend time with my mum that my sister didn't; she was outside with her horses so was exempt form household chores and helping mum. I think she missed out because I spent hours with mum in the kitchen helping her bake and cook. I loved it. Weekends and holiday baking was my favourite time because mum had more time to spare when she wasn't working. So we would bake biscuits and cakes, drop scones and regular scones. Prepare casseroles and poach salmon. Of course I had to wash up and help clean the kitchen afterwards but I would get a freshly baked biscuit that would melt in my mouth, the warm flavour oozing out through that crispy exterior to a squidgy middle. And on a Sunday we would make baked soufflé to eat in front of the TV covered in strawberry jam, soft and fluffy like a cloud. So good.
Mum was also a good seamstress and embroiderer, so whilst I wasn't particularly interested in sewing I did love cross stitch; we would sit together while mum was making something and she would teach me how to embroider and correct my mistakes. Always patient, I think she was glad of my company as my sister was always out riding or with animals, never family orientated in the same way I was. And while you're sitting there you chat, I can't remember what about but I do remember that mum had a great sense of humour and was very quick to giggle. In fact, she would normally be the first person to starting giggling at a most inappropriate time, head down, shoulders shaking, unable to meet anyones' eye. Dad was always the quiet sensible one. The one you didn't want to be told off by. Mum would be loud and angry but it passed in an instant, never the silent disapproval that Dad could maintain for a day or two. Mum was the one who was quick to hug and heal, to tell you that everything would be ok.
Then there was her musical side. Different from Dad who loved music but couldn't play an instrument. I remember falling asleep listening to mum playing the piano. Such a beautiful memory, I loved listening to her play, she was so talented. Mum was, when I was a child, definitely the softer, more creative parent. The one who recognised my need to draw and read, to sing and feel the sunshine in every day. Dad was the academic, who expected me to work hard at school and get good grades; and because I loved him so much, that's what I tried to do. He softened as he became a grandfather, finally relaxing and knowing that he had done a good job as a father and now it was time to enjoy life a bit more. But mum, she loved life, always a worrier but still enjoyed her life. If I couldn't do my maths homework then she would explain to dad that I'd tried, I was just better at a English and the arts. Maths and sciences where never easy for me.
Then when I had Ben and Bex mum took such pleasure in these two small people, again teaching them to cook. Ben's fist cookery lesson at three years old was 'strangled dregs' on toast, cooked on the Aga whilst standing on the dog so he could reach the stove top (Sometimes he would use a stool but if Fudge was available he was always first choice). And of course she taught them both to do cross stitch and sew. Ben was particularly good at cross stitch whereas Bex seemed to enjoy sewing more. Hours spent with them sitting with her either cooking or sewing; playing scrabble or anagrams as they got older. Mum would happily stop what she was doing to join us playing board games, those two being our firm favourites though.
I'm pretty sure it was my mum who encouraged them to drink the cereal milk from their bowls, who told them that ice cream was a perfectly healthy breakfast, and that you could wipe your hands on the dog. All things she has vehemently denied on a regular basis!
It was my mum who I cried for when I had pneumonia three times, who Ben had to phone after the cat scratched his head, who Bex wanted when she took her nebuliser. Simply because mum/grandma could make everything better. She was the one who used to kiss me better and now it's my turn to do the same for her. I can't give her her youth back or return her memory but I can shower her with love and kisses. I can help make sure her life is as comfortable as possible.
I miss the mum I used to have but I still love her with all of my heart and will do absolutely anything for her. I shall cherish her in her old age as she cherished me throughout my life. I will look after her as my father would want me to. I shall love this older version of my lovely, beautiful, funny mum. The mum who made me giggle when I shouldn't, who let me lick the cake mix from the bowl, and was there for me everyday as I grew older. I shall love her as she deserves to be loved.
I love you Mum.