Mum's The Word

Happy Mother's Day to all the mums out there. Yes, it may be a Hallmark holiday, but being a mother is tough. It deserves to be celebrated.

I consider myself extremely fortunate to have a good relationship with my mother; she's kind, gentle, temperamental and great at making cakes. She's one of the old school, who fed me Guinness as a child, because it supposedly had iron in it. She taught me to be a snob about underwear, to the point of making me wear those horrid slips under my skirt. (Although, oddly, it was my dad who taught me how to get out of a car without embarrassing myself.)

We've had some rocky times and I found myself, especially during my late teens and early twenties, on the receiving end of some rather stinging verbals. I've since learned that such things aren't borne out of malice; sometimes you hurt the people closest to you because it's one of the privileges of being close to someone, and you can go beyond honesty and cut to the quick because you care for that person so much that you just want to make them see the truth of the matter, the same way you do. That's part of the mother-daughter relationship, but I've seen it echoed with female friends and relatives. I've seen it in romantic relationships, too. And your relationship with your parents, and their relationship to each other, is how we learn about relating to the opposite or same sex.

When I talk to people who have little, no or strained relationships with their mothers, I feel sorry for them, but also a vicarious sense of liberation. How good must it be to not have someone nag you about whether you're dressed appropriately for the weather, when you are an adult and capable of dressing yourself by now? But what does it feel like, when you need someone to talk to about your deepest fears? Is there a void that someone in your life should be able to fill - friend, sibling, cousin, therapist - but doesn't quite come close? What's that like?

My mum is in her mid-60s, but looks 15 years younger, so at least I have a graceful old age to look forward to. However, as she approaches the point where she'll be upping and leaving (with Dad) to live out her remaining years in the Caribbean, I have to come to terms with the fact that neither of them will be around for ever. And then what will I do? They've been around all my life, and I'm close to them.

Mum made some mistakes in life, and I'm glad she's shared some of those with me. I've never grown up thinking that my parents were always right, or that they fell out of the sky already married. They had lives and loves before marrying and having children, and I'm eternally grateful for that insight. She's a real person and as much as I love her, she's not on a pedestal.

I think that's how a healthy relationship should be.

Thanks for everything, Mum.