....but in the meantime, I have been sunk into the thought bubble of mothering. (Again.) This time is has been prompted by Mothers' Day which we celebrated on Sunday. It was the first time in many years that I didn't cook a thank you lunch for my own mother. Being motherless loomed large.
My own family treated me with wondrous indulgence and kindness. Most soul feeding was the card with words I treasure from my two children. TD organised the whole thing, as her brother is (still) overseas. I read it and glowed from the inside.
For lunch, Andrew had decided on a trip down memory lane. In our youth, we enjoyed getting take outs from a Greek restaurant in Sea Point and would eat watching the sea and avoiding the loudly demanding seagulls. The restaurant, Ari Souvlaki, is still in the same place. There are such nice people in this world. The owner showed his freshly baked trays of puddings, and asked me which I would like for a mothers' day treat. They both looked delicious. I chose the milk tart pastry but he scooped one of each type into a container and handed them to me with the kindest smile. Such generosity almost overwhelmed me.
Because that is really what mothering is all about I think: Generosity and the giving of oneself. Mothering is not confined to biology, and there are many people who have mothered me in some form or other. Many who have played (even if they don't know it) pivotal, key, life nurturing roles that I have relied on when I have needed extra courage. I appreciate you, even if it seems I sometimes take you for granted.
Mothers, I think, should be taken for granted. Children should just be able to assume that Mother is their backdrop and safety net. It doesn't need thanks or acknowledgement or come with expectations. My children owe me nothing - and I owe them the best I can offer. That is how parenting works. And that is why when my children do write lovely things to me in a Mother's Day card, I bubble inside and feel that all is right with the universe.
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