It’s mother’s day and hopefully this time next year we will be Mammies… that’s going to be an expensive day for the little one… oh well!
This mother’s day I reflect on my mother, a woman that lit a fag and puffed on it with every contraction. Her generation treated us babies as robust warriors. There was no such thing as a car seat then,
“Sure we popped you in the Moses basket in the back seat. Your father had a pint or two to celebrate and then we drove home.. smoking.” You’d be hung if you did that today.
Then there was the laissez faire attitude to safety, “You fell down the stairs in your roller and the screams out of you. But when we ran (I very much doubt they ran) out to you you were grand.” What the fuck was I doing at the top of the stairs in a roller by myself anyhow?
This was a time pre wet wipe. A month old piece of tissue retrieved from the caves of your mother’s coat and then the big spit to lubricate it so that she could “clean” your dirty face. The horror.
On this mother’s day I am grateful that I am still alive. But even though I disagree with pretty much everything they did, there is an independent ethos that they enforced on me… maybe it was just laziness. Anyhow, they allowed me to explore and push the limits. I got hurt but I survived and I’m envious of that trust women at that time had in their kid’s ability. I really hope I can let mine be free instead of fretting over their every move.