A public announcement to my Mum on Mothers Day

For Mothers Day 2011, since I am in possession of an active blog, I would like to take the opportunity to make a public announcement to my Mum.

Mum, I’m sorry.

Really, really sorry.

What for? Well, for those years between about 1988 and 1995. And probably even beyond that if I’m being totally honest. The years I was an eye-rolling, drama-inducing, door-slamming, withered look-giving teenager.

And as the middle of three sisters, my poor Mum had to deal with this three times over. It’s a wonder she didn’t up and move to Alaska, or somewhere very, very remote. Without a telephone. But she didn’t. She stuck it out, and at some point (I can’t exactly remember when) we all realised that she was actually a person in her own right. Not just our Mum.

My Mum's a qualified piano teacher. She used to sing at weddings. She worked for the High Court in Canberra, and transcribed some of the court tapes from the Lindy Chamberlain trial (a dingo did not kill that baby). She’s a grammar and times tables guru. She gave me my love of reading. When she was 19 she moved to Canberra for work and lived in a caravan (yes, I have trailer park roots). She could have gone to work in Washington DC but instead chose to stay in Canberra and marry my Dad. Lucky, or else I would not be here, typing this blog. Which would obviously be a terrible loss for all life on Earth.

It’s funny to reach an age where you can actually remember your Mum being the same age. I was eight years old when my Mum was 34. The differences in our lives at this age are, err, significant. I am responsible to no one. I am currently flitting around Europe writing a novel. Not earning any money. At 34, my Mum had three children and had paid off a mortgage. She had been married to my Dad for 12 years. She was responsible – because she had to be. She was a Mum, and she had the perm to prove it.

So it would have made sense that when I first told Mum that I wanted to take time off work to try and pursue my dream of writing a novel for her to tell me not to be silly. That is was time to grow up. And be sensible.

But she didn’t. You want to know what her first words were?

‘Well, you’ve always wanted to do that’ in a voice that suggested that she didn’t know why I had taken so long to reach this decision. Then she said ‘Why don’t you move home for a few months to save some money?’ and it was then that I realised that maybe she has early onset memory loss and has forgotten what living with me in the early 1990’s was actually like. Or else she’s had a lot of therapy.

I’m lucky. Very lucky. Not every aspiring creative gets this kind of reception from their family and friends. 20 years ago I might not have been able to appreciate this. But now I do.

And while I may still occasionally roll my eyes (very bad habit) and act like a surly 15 year old – Mum, I just want to say thanks for being such a loving, generous person and a truly wonderful friend.

Although I still wish you had never made me wear those polyester brown flares to school when I was seven. That sort of thing can really scar a girl you know.

Happy Mothers Day to all the Mum's reading this. And to those of you with daughters...good luck.