Magic and Mothers

Mothers have a certain kind of elemental magic in their fingertips. The ability to make a sick child feel better by their mere presence. It is not a magic that fades with time, but one that seems to grow with the years.

My mother has always gentle hands. A full body Swedish massage cannot ease the tension out of my body as well as her quiet caress. She seems to soak up all the stress and replace it with a deep peace. I hope I can do the same for my children, for there is no feeling more hopeless, more impotent, than being unable to relieve your child’s pain.

At the extremely mature age of 21, I set off on a trip overseas. After ten days in Scotland I was suffering from a flu that managed to kill off quite a few stalwart Scots. I got myself on a train to London, conned and begged my way into her room and lay in the dark waiting for her to arrive from Moscow. I believed implicitly that everything would be okay as soon as she arrived. It was. I felt better the moment she walked in the door.

At 5am the next morning she stood outside the nearest Boots waiting for the doors to open and arrived back with blessed medication. Even now I will retreat to her home to recharge and know she’ll tuck up her grown up daughter in bed, make me tea and toast, and offer a shoulder to cry on.

I am deeply aware of what a unique and incredible woman she is, and how incredibly honoured I am to have her as my mother. It makes the knowledge that others have not been so privileged so much harder to bear. I have a daughter of my own now and I cannot imagine ever turning my back on her. I can’t understand throwing an 18 year old out on the street for the misfortune of having fallen pregnant. I can’t fathom accusing your daughter of trying to seduce your boyfriend. I can’t imagine not having a mother who is not my best friend.

My mother let me make mistakes and learn from them. She gave me enough rope to give me freedom, but not enough to hang myself with. She withheld judgement on my bad decisions and was always there to help me pick up the pieces afterward. She never once has said, “I told you so”, however much I deserved it. I have learnt from her about what it means to be a woman, a mother and a wife than any number of books could have taught me. She helped mould be into the woman I have become, and while I am by no means perfect, she didn’t do a half bad job.

Growing up her presence was something I took totally for granted, I thought everyone’s mother was like mine. The thing is that many aren’t. Some of the most devoted mothers come from nothing, live from hand to mouth and survive every second to give their children a better life. Some terrible mothers are so rich they can float through life hardly meeting their offspring. I was shocked to discover a child diagnosed with severe malnutrition at a top girl’s private school. Her mother was so occupied with her social life, she forgot to feed her child.

I may not live up to my expectations of the perfect mother, but I will never forget to tell and show my children how much I love them. I love them in their angelic slumber, in the full flow of their tantrums, as they hang upside down in trees and paint my eyelids the colours of the rainbow while I am napping. I love them as they transform my clean car into a rubbish tip, as they hide plastic spiders in my handbag and create chaos in the wake.

If they remember nothing else from their childhood, I hope they remember the words I whisper to them as they fall asleep...

My love for you will be your armour against the slings and arrows of the world

A light for you in the darkest of nights

A path before your feet when you fear that you are lost

It is water for when you thirst and food for when you hunger

The shade of a tree in the heat of the noonday sun

And the warmth of a fire through the cold nights of winter

It will be with you all the days of your life

A flame inside your heart none can extinguish

Its light shall burn so bright that all who look upon you will know

That you are loved

 

Right, now I’ve got that out of my system, I have to share a bizarre story. 

Some poor lady was brushing her teeth, good dental hygiene is very important after all, our mothers teach us that. As she leant forward to rinse her mouth, her lips touched the metal of the tap just as her apartment building was struck by lightning. Luckily she was wearing rubber soled slippers, so Thor’s errant bolt couldn’t exit through her feet. Unfortunately, it chose the nearest available exit. I am sure you can guess where she suffered third degree burns…