Becoming a mother was, without question, the most wonderful experience of my life. The total, overwhelming and immediate love I felt when my firstborn was placed onto my chest has never been equalled. But neither has it diminished. Along with the love for my second child, it continues. It is constant, unwavering and without condition.
It’s love in its purest form and I’m thankful every day that I have been afforded this privilege. I look at my two young people, now almost 14 and almost 12 and I’m proud to be their mum. It’s hard. I make mistakes. I get it wrong sometimes, but they love and admire me and knowing that is priceless.
And in the same way, I love and admire my mum. As a midwife she delivered my daughter, her first grandchild, the night before Mother’s Day in 2001. She is now Granny to five grandchildren. At almost 65, she has boundless energy and a joie de vivre that sees her “scootering” along with the children, playing cricket and snorkeling. I hope I’ve inherited her zest for life.
Despite being close to my parents, I’ve always been independent and self-sufficient. I went to university and never again lived at home. But over this last year, I’ve not only needed my parents more than ever but wanted them more than ever too, emotionally and practically, especially during my house move.
They relish having my children for the occasional overnight stay which gives me a much appreciated opportunity to have a night or two away and gives the children a chance to be indulged in that wonderful way that only grandparents know. And I’m honest and secure enough to admit that they benefit from the time away from me too.
My mum has been there constantly with love, support, honest advice and an unwavering belief that everything will be ok.
And she was right.
I have never appreciated her more.
But despite all of her wonderful qualities, certain things do puzzle me.
She has only ever driven on a motorway once in 39 years and that was because she took a wrong turn.
And she has an inexplicable desire to get home, from anywhere, before it’s dark and to be in her nightclothes by 7pm.
This, I rather hope not to have inherited.
But one thing is for certain, we both love food.
This was taken last year in Porto Santo. I think Mum looks fantastic.
And this was taken 41 years ago, when aged 5 months old I devoured my first ever ice-cream. I believe “inhaled” was the word used.
I was 10 months old when my parents took me on my first holiday to Woolacombe, Devon. In a full circle, I’m taking my own children there this summer- my first ever holiday alone with them.
And here we are in Morecambe when I was 20 months old. I’m wearing a piece of couture- my mum made a lot of my dresses.
My mum has hundreds of photographs of myself and my two brothers as children. She is quite remarkable in that she knows our ages and our location on every single one.
So, thank you mum for everything you have done for the three of us and for our children. Thank you for insisting we cleaned our teeth at least twice a day. Thank you for letting me have (green) Doc Marten boots when I know you hated them and thank you for not shouting when I crashed your Metro into a skip.
But, most of all, thank you for turning a blind eye and a deaf ear while seeing and hearing our every need.
Happy Mothers Day Mum,
Love Liz xxx
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