Happy Mother’s Day to all of you fortunate enough to be celebrating. This includes Aunts and Uncles who are like second parents, single dad’s who are doing it all, mother’s of fur babies, and those of you who’s connection to the day is now on the other side. But it is especially for my mum!
I complained about my mother tirelessly as a youngster. She went to work and wasn’t there for me. But no mention of all the things her wage afforded us as a family, like around the world holidays, and no gratefulness about the things it afforded me directly, like the cordless phone in my room and the remote control tv. This was a big deal back then! But no, instead I complained that I didn’t have my own phone line/number and that the tv didn’t have a VCR with it.
I complained about her doing the washing first thing on a Saturday instead of thanking her for using her few precious days off to wash, dry, fold, sort and put away my clothes so I had clean things to wear.
I complained that I had to put the potatoes on to boil at 5pm so that she could serve them with dinner after her bus from work got in at 5.30pm. “I’m not your slave” I would bellow ungratefully down the line when she had to call every single day to remind me or I wouldn’t do it. No thank you mum for getting up early, and peeling and cutting the potatoes in the pot ready to be boiled before a long day at work, plus the pre preparation of whatever other things she was serving for dinner.
I complained that she had expectations about the cleanliness of my room, insisting that it wasn’t her business and to close the door if she didn’t like it and keep out of my room. No thanks for the room of my own, filled with luxury items with which I made said mess. No gratefulness to her for returning to work so they could pay off that house and provide us with security and stability.
I complained that I was not allowed to bring a friend on said round the world trips, instead of being grateful and revelling in the opportunity to travel and see things I may not ever get to experience again.
I complained that the dishes had to be done straight after dinner, although I was seldom asked to do them, instead of offering and understanding that she just wanted to sit down after a long hard day.
I complained when I was asked to defrost the freezer, that she was wasting a day of my precious time on the school holidays instead of thanking her for the fridge and freezer full of nutritious meals and snacks.
I complained when she spoke to my friends, calling her nosey and briefing them in advance to tell her nothing, instead of thanking her for trying to connect and relate to us, and being interested and concerned about what we were experiencing.
I complained when she would edit my work. I just wanted praise and adoration, not criticism, instead of thanking her for helping me to be better and achieve more.
I wish I could tell you that my complaining stopped there, as an adolescent, but it didn’t.
I complained that when she would visit after I moved out of home that she would visit and clean things instead of accepting me the way that I am and enjoying time together instead of thanking her for her help and all the time she was saving me that I could later spend with my friends.
I complained when she decided it was time for me to pay for my own rego and insurance on the car that they bought and maintained for me years after I was legally an adult.
I complained that I was expected to look after my dog when they went on holidays, although they kept and cared for him long after I moved out, instead of thanking her for the love and care she bestowed upon a dog she never wanted.
I complained less, and started to understand all that selflessness and sacrifice that being a mother requires after I had my son, but I still never stopped complaining fully.
I complained that she wasn’t available enough to babysit my children so that I could go out…. Instead of being grateful for all the times, and there were many, that she was willing to accommodate.
I complained that she commented on my body and my diet, instead of empathising and understanding her concern and desire to protect me from her own perceived shortcomings and struggles.
I complained that she made parenting suggestions instead of thanking her for her wisdom.
I complained that she stopped hosting Christmas and family functions over the years after they moved to a tiny apartment in a retirement village instead of thanking her for slaving away all those years and making those moments easy and enjoyable and memorable for the rest of us.
I complained that she didn’t want to put up her Christmas tree anymore instead of understanding that the kids are all teenagers now, and they don’t go over enough to even really see it instead of thanking her and explaining she made Christmas magic and it breaks my heart that she’s running out of magic dust.
I complained that she wants to use a shower chair instead of standing after a friend of hers fell in the shower and broke her neck, instead of being compassionate and explaining it scares me she’ll get old and leave me and I don’t want to lose her.
I have complained about everything, every step of the way. And I am so damned lucky to have so much to complain about. Because every complaint was about a blessing she gave me that not everyone had.
Thank you to my mother, who gave me everything, asked for nothing and hardly complained about all my complaining. Please know I do appreciate every little thing you have offered to make my life easier, and what it cost you, as a woman. All that self sacrifice, all those acts of service, all those hours of working both at home and in the office. The early mornings and late nights and the mental load.
Let’s be honest, I will probably never stop finding things to complain about, but mostly I want to complain that you are getting older and tired and I want you to stay here, as you are, forever. As that isn’t possible I want you to know it will be an honour to care for you as your needs advance, and I hope you complain about everything I do too! I definitely deserve it!
I have complained about many things, but never that you haven’t expressed love. Everything that you do, for me, and for everyone in your life, is love. Remembering the details, listening attentively, thoughtful gifts and gestures. And despite my complaining that is the greatest gift you have given me. You have taught me how to love through loving.
I love you Mumma, even if you complain that I don’t show it enough! Happy Mother’s Day Mumma. Thank you. For Everthing you have done, continue to do and will do in the future. I notice. I care. I love you too.
❤ Love,
Your Best Friend For(n)Ever
xx
