I promise this is in no way related to the fact that the Moonpig site went down for no apparent reason on Thursday night, other than our rubbish WiFi signal, when I tried to get a card sent to you. One from me. And a lovely personalised photo card from the boys. But after waiting 20 minutes for the site to load I had a little strop and went to bed. You’ll remember all about the little strops that I tend to have, having witnessed and put up with them ever since I was born pretty much. So this year, instead I have decided I will write “A Letter to my Mum; Happy Mothers Day” in lieu of my poor organisational skills.
This Mothers Day I am sorry you don’t have a card. Off me. Off the boys. And I’m sorry that we are so far away (for now) in Dubai so we won’t see you this year. But hopefully this will go in some way to make up for it.
Until I had the boys I never really realised what being a mother meant. You were just always there, through the tough days, through those teenage years where I went completely off the rails. From when I was tiny and you were smearing germolene on my grazed knees to when I was older and you were mopping my tears from childhood fights and boys. Each and every day of my life you have been there, whether I’ve needed you or not you’ve been there, in the background waiting to spring to action.
Like the time you held it all together when I told you that the Big One was on his way, the day that Dad died. The way you held it together when you found out I was in labour, and the traumatic delivery of the Big One that was too close to call. The excitement as we told you that the Baby was on his way. And the terror you must have felt as we told you, yet again, of the traumatic birth for me and for him. How again it was close, yet this time it wasn’t only your grandson in danger but your daughter as well. The childhood travel memories you facilitated, weaving magic in a caravan, poking jellyfish on a beach, eating sand. The stories that are dined out again and again as I grow older. New memories taking place, along with the husband and the boys. The generosity of our trip to Mauritius. Then the Cruise. Watching as the boys splashed in the waves – remembering I’m sure a time when you were the Mum standing over the Brother and I as we splashed.
The trips out to Dubai, laden with the requests from home, the chocolate, the bread and above all the duty free. The trips out and about around Dubai, exploring our new home with us even though you didn’t want us to move so far away.
The Christmases spent in the sunshine, despite family traditions demanding that you should be the one hosting Boxing Day. Watching as the Big One starts to understand what Santa is and enveloping yourself in the magic.
So Thank You Mum. Thank you for the BIG things, but thank you too for the little things, the things that I only now appreciate as I do them for the boys. I’ll have a glass of wine for you tonight (after our standard Sunday Skype) and will look forward to do so in person come May. When we descend on you. For an indefinite amount of time. Just another thing that you do for us.
Lots of love,
PS I have realised going through all these photos that we need to take more of you and the Baby! Photo shoot when we get home maybe!?You can follow our adventures from the sandpit (and beyond) over on Facebook, see you there!