If there’s one thing for sure I’ve learned over the last decade is that no matter how independent you think you are, you will always need your mum.
Which brings me to my own beautiful mother, who just so happens to be celebrating her birthday today (as long as I manage to get this done before midnight.)
Happy birthday Mumma!
I thought I’d take this very special day honour not only the wonderful woman who raised me into an equally, if not more wonderful woman (I kid, I kid, she’s waaay better than me), but all the phenomenal mothers out there.
Let’s start from the start, shall I?
I guess you could say my Mum is a dedicated lady. When I decided to make my big entrance into the world in the middle of the night, my Dad had to stay home and look after my sister. So he reversed the car out of the driveway, handed her the keys and off she went; driving herself to hospital whilst in labour (which fortunately was just at the end of the street.) And she’s been a real trooper ever since. You see, I was probably what you’d call a ‘Mummy’s girl’, but the extreme version. I was pretty attached to the woman who gave me life (for good reason – she’s awesome), to the point where I would miss her so much that she couldn’t go to the toilet without me sitting outside the door screaming for her to come back to me.
Luckily I finally grew out of that in time for high school (more jokes, I was at least eight…) and while I probably made out like I didn’t need my Mum during my angsty teenage years, anyone could see through that little act of mine because I was still as needy as ever. I wanted her for myself to be honest; some of the best times together were when we left my siblings at home (sorry Rach and Christopher) and went on shopping trips – a shared passion of ours – chatting about all the important things in my life (crushes on boys, who pashed who on the weekend and whether to cut my hair short or not) on the hour drive into town and then picking out nice clothes for me to wear and Mum to buy. But I always valued the conversation much more than the clothes because I grew out of them, but I never grew out of chatting to ol’ Mumsy.
I was a lucky kid, that’s for sure.
The day I left home for the first time (on a failed four month trip to New Zealand), I was so hysterical I threw up (and then came home after three weeks). The day my parents dropped me off at university around a year later, Mum made sure to say goodbye and leave before she started crying herself just so my own drastic sobs wouldn’t intensify beyond recovery.
I now live around a six hour drive from home, and I won’t lie – I still have little tearies every time I have to say goodbye and drive away, knowing our next visit won’t be for a few more months.
As I’ve grown older, and our interactions mainly occur through daily phone calls, I’m happy to report I’ve learned the very valuable skill of ‘listening to my mother’. Conversations no longer revolve around my problems (weeeeell they do about 80% of the time), but now we’re equals. I listen to my Mum’s problems, tell her I totally understand and give her my best advice when needed. When we are together, I help her pick out sweet new outfits, we huff and puff through boot camps, and go out on lunch dates. Sometimes, I even pick up the bill.
We’re real mates, my Mum and I.
Want to know just a few more great things about my Mum? Ok.
- She takes my side when I’m angry at someone nearly every time, but also doesn’t hesitate to tell me when I’m overreacting.
- She constantly tells everyone what I’m up to, so when I run into people I haven’t seen for a long time they already know what I ate for breakfast, let alone who I’m dating, where I’m working and my most significant recent achievements. While it’s a little bit embarrassing, it also makes my heart swell too because it shows me how proud she is of me.
- If I’m seriously broke, she puts money in my account without even having to ask, but when I needed to have my wisdom teeth out and told her how much it would cost, she didn’t even offer to pay for it and made me realise a very important fact; I was finally a real adult who was capable of paying my own way.
- She’s a machine who can leg press 250kg and squats with 20kg dumbbells in each hand. EACH HAND! Um hello, is my mother (a less green, much prettier version of) the Hulk? I think she is.
- If I look especially nice in something I can’t afford, she puts it away for a ‘special occasion’ and then gets too excited to wait and sneaks it to me pretty soon after.
- She gives the best hugs. The best.
But one of the most noticeable things? When I meet people who already know my Mum, they go out of their way to tell me how special she is. They never really have the words for it; just “you’re Mum is a really special person did you know”? Yes I know, but thanks for pointing it out because I love hearing people talk about her like she’s best thing since sliced bread. (She is.)
The best thing about ‘mums’ is that yours might not even be your actual mother; it could be your dad, your aunty, your older sister, a grandparent or just a very special friend. It’s someone who looks after you, patches you up when you run into things (a common occurrence for me), still loves you even if they’re “disappointed” with your behaviour (ouch!) and sometimes, lets you look after them for once because they value your ability to love and care for them right back too.
So once again – happy birthday to my magnificent mother!
And if you’re phone is within arms reach, why not give your own ‘mum’ – whoever that may be – a call, a text or even just flick them a quick emoticon to tell them how much you appreciate them…
…and then ask them for a small loan you’ll never pay back or tell them your car won’t start and expect them to fix it over the phone from hundreds of kilometres away because, you know – they need to know you still need them sometimes too.