Most have been writing today about how their mum is the best mum in the world (since it’s Mother’s Day in quite a few countries today). I’m not sure what criteria they are using because everyone’s mum can’t possibly be the best mum in the world.
My mum is no exception.
She is no more the best mum than I am the best daughter.
That said, she is my Mum so she’s the best one that I have.
My Mum is more gutsy than most would give her credit. One year into her marriage, she left her home country, her beloved horses and brothers (not sure which order she would put these in, you should hear her talk about the horses. Bunny, in particular, was a beautiful horse…) to move with her man and me half-way around the world, by boat, to a country she had never been, in order to escape the apartheid.
Sydney was decided since it was on the same latitude as Cape Town so they figured that the climate must be similar. It was to be her home for the next six years.
The following year, my brother was born.
I don’t remember that, but I do have a photo of me holding him while sitting on the floor. His face bright red as he tried very hard to scream his lungs out. He was unsuccessful at that attempt though that didn’t stop him from continuing to try. A lot.
I could write a lot about my brother but I don’t want to embarrass him. Let’s just say that he was an overachiever on the mischievous front. Mum somehow managed through this mainly by herself.
My Dad sailed all over the place with his work. He brought back some great gifts from the US, Japan and Korea in particular as well as some spices from India and who knows where else. He expanded the world beyond my patch of beachside suburbia and Waverley (we moved a few times in the six years). This may explain quite a bit about why I’m now in HK and travelling as much as possible.
Meanwhile Mum had driving lessons, gained her licence, set up a council playgroup where a bunch of children went and we were never short of activities, went back to nursing (though couldn’t be recognised at the level she was previously so was doing more manual tasks and years later, was to hurt her back lifting someone) and my Gran looked after us here and there for a bit and all the while, she managed to keep us fed and clothed on a limited budget. She is known to have 100 ways with mince – it’s impressive.
Mum always prepared my school lunch, which was consistently nutritious though I didn’t know this at the time. As a special treat, she would sometimes give me chocolate or caramel space food sticks. It took her a while to realise that tomato on a school sandwich is not a good idea. Nor is peanut butter and honey. Or cheese and honey. Honey and anything. This is a home spread only.
She met a lot of people through walking me to and from school (and later my brother), tennis and nursing. Yet in a social situation, with my Dad there too, she would appear to be the reserved one. She is not. He is just substantially louder and more outgoing than she is!
Similar to Mum, I like my alone time and have done since I was little. Walking home from school, she would hold my brother’s hand and walk in front of me while I dawdled behind them, dropping back further and further as I daydreamed, smelled the frangipanis, watched butterflies and collected cicada shells. Not often would she turn to rush me to catch up. This pre-dates stranger danger and it’s unfortunate that other children don’t have this opportunity now.
We lived close to other family members. We regularly visited their homes, the shops they owned or the design studios where they worked. Mum made sure we were connected with all of them. Her side of the family remained in South Africa and she wrote to them regularly. She tried to keep us connected with them too though it was difficult given we’d never met. Mum explained to us who everyone was and we always had to write to thank our South African Gran for any gifts she sent us. It wasn’t until I visited South Africa about five years ago, after she had died, that I found that this Gran had told my cousins there all about her family in Australia and what we had been doing. They even knew about my ballet stint! This was quite touching to me since that Gran and my Mum hadn’t left on the best of terms and I had never met her, even as a baby.
Somewhere along the way, at one of the rare times my Dad was in the country, he had the idea to move to the Gold Coast. I remember visiting a few times prior to moving there as some people he sailed with lived there. It was a 12 hour road trip that required Mum to pack peanut butter sandwiches and egg sandwiches on Vogel’s bread. Dad liked to drive straight through and stopping for the toilet was done under duress. Car sickness seemed to force a stop, which, while the smell was disgusting, I was grateful. At least it wasn’t me being sick.
Mum made friends with Dad’s sailing buddies and their families too.
They found a property and then started to build a house while we went back to Sydney.
Dad continued his overseas travels as Mum packed up the house and prepared us all for the move. I was particularly upset that I would be leaving behind friends. All of seven years old and I thought I’d never make another. She was saying goodbye to her friends too and with hindsight, her reassurances for me where probably also for herself. Interestingly, Dad had been in Sydney so infrequently, I don’t remember him having any close friends there, only family. This could just be my memory though rather than him not having the time to build friendships.
Moving to the Gold Coast was at the least, a pleasant change in weather. Again, Dad left to travel and Mum sorted out the house and enrolled us in another school. This was to be my third primary school. In some academic areas, Mum found that we would be ahead and in others behind. That Easter holiday, before school started, Mum taught me how to write cursive, my six to nine times table and drilled me in my spelling. I traced letters, I rote learned my tables and I had a few tantrums at doing all of this when I would have preferred to have been outside. She persevered.
First day of school and I made one new friend in particular whose family then became a big part of mine and my family’s lives. Mum maintained the friendship with her mother and father so when Dad returned, he slotted right in.
The following year, she had an argument with one of my teachers. Mum’s view was I should be in a higher grade for spelling. They were unwilling to budge so Mum pushed them into testing me the higher level material. There I was spelling &refridgerator& and the class hadn’t reached that one yet.
School holidays saw Mum organising various surprises for us put on by the local council or library. She also took us to the beach. Telling her we were bored was a waste of time, she’d tell us to find something to do and we did. Between meeting other children at the local park (again Mum, befriended their parents and one set in particular, she is still friends with, Dad slotted in when he returned), playing with my Barbies and my brother’s Lego, Star Wars and Matchbox cars (and our Sesame Street toys when we were younger), we really had no excuse to be bored. There were always books too.
Mum loves to read and this is probably one of the best gifts I have from her. Many holiday days, when Mum wasn’t working, especially when she’d had the operation on her foot, she was to be found in a particular chair either watching tennis or reading. Sometimes both. My brother gained the love of tennis, I gained reading. At least mine I can do in the rain!
With Mum’s limited budget, she subscribed to the World Book Encyclopaedias. One of her best purchases ever. Not only did I enjoy just opening up to a random page and reading, it was very useful for our various school assignments since this pre-dated personal computers. Mum usually helped with these too and taught me different ways to write the titles to my reports.
Mum signed me up to Girl Guides. She helped me with my badges and listened to my dummy-spit over having to complete the Laundress Badge in order to obtain the BP Emblem. In hindsight, I could have structured this all differently to avoid it but that wasn’t the point. I am yet to understand why the Scouts didn’t have a similar badge.
Mum took me to multiple Guide camps and even stayed over at an indoor one. Dad was not a camper and she wanted to make sure we understood the Australian wildlife and didn’t mind dirt. I loved it so much that when I finished Guides, I joined Venturers after trying Rangers first. The boys were a bit rougher and the girls were a little too neat and not as outdoors-focused enough for me.
She sewed costumes for various pantomimes I was in, she cheered at multiple hockey matches and shuttled me all around the Gold Coast and sometimes even to Brisbane for various activities.
We saw a kitten at a flea market one day (yes, that is funny) and begged Mum to have it. She gave in and we named it Whiskey. When Dad called later that week from some other country, he wasn’t too pleased to hear about our new family member. Mum wore the brunt of this.
Somewhere along the way, Dad stopped working on the boats and he and Mum decided to open a takeaway food store together. My brother and I then had to look after ourselves after school and keep the house clean. This clearly had disaster written all over it!
Mum, my brother and I moved to a caravan park. As upset as Mum must have been, she held herself together and I only remember seeing her visibly upset once. Me on the otherhand, I stopped eating. It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just didn’t feel like food anymore. Nothing seemed appealing, no amount of coaxing or good food smells seemed to be able to tempt me. I wasn’t focused on my weight or size or anything like that. I just didn’t feel like food.
Mum repeatedly tempted me with McDonald’s Filet-o-Fish. It finally worked.
She started working again at a Nursing Home as a nurse and took in their washing too for some extra cash. I visited this place many times over the years and the smell is still in my nose today. There is also no smell like bleached underwear hanging on the line, I had to hang out quite a few loads too.
I started to work selling chicken so I could fund the usual high school expenses – music magazines, clothes, movie tickets. Mum instilled in me the understanding that I had to work for what I wanted. My Dad had started this when I was 12 and sent to work at a Milk Bar but seeing the work Mum had to do and why solidified it.
Mum continued to do what she could to make sure we didn’t miss out on anything. I joined the high school marching band, twirling a flag, and performed at World Expo 88 a few times and various other occasions. Mum came to those that she could.
We continued to visit family on both the Gold Coast (an Aunty and Uncle and cousins had moved) as well as doing the trip by car to Sydney to see family there. Thankfully this was without the Vogel’s sandwiches, the tight time frames and was with toilet stops and even, treat of treats, stops at garages for drinks.
We moved into a house about a year later (I don’t really remember how long it was but it seemed to be quite a while) that Mum had found. Not until I bought a house myself did I realise how gutsy it was for her to do alone.
Mum forked out what could only have been a small fortune to her for my formal dress in Year 12. We had two dogs at this time and she was working as a Diversional Therapist at the same Nursing Home. We continued to wash their dirty laundry. That smell…
As a side note, when looking for a Nursing Home, a good Diversional therapy program is a must. It helps keep the brain active as well as the body (assuming they arrive at the Home with a working one!). For those whose minds are already not 100%, a good program helps them to remember the past and to stay connected to the present.
Back on track… She sent me on my way to university as I went interstate. She and her then boyfriend, drove me and mine of the time, six hours away. It must have been tough though she put on a brave face. There was only a few tears and a shaky lip.
That was the last time I officially lived with Mum. I was 17, though I did return for holidays and it wasn’t until a fair few years after that when all my stuff was out of that house too. Mum only complained once.
In the ensuing years, Mum has been incredibly supportive. Sometimes it’s shown in unusual ways (to me) though I know it has always come from her heart. There’s been times when I haven’t understood the choices she’s made, and she probably hasn’t understood a good deal of mine.
We have some things in common – our love of reading, time to ourselves, helping other people and animals, love of nature and the outdoors, needlework, tenacity, resiliance and general creativity. We would both consider ourselves introverts though I’m guessing an assessment of her would show that like me, she is an extrovert though probably only slight.
Our thinking tends to be opposite. For major decisions, I work out all the possible ways things could turn out and make a decision based on that and know things will always work out, Mum seems to just expect things will work out, her consideration process is different to mine, I don’t understand it and, it still surprises me!
Where my Mum is affectionate, I’m reserved. Mum will end every phone conversation with me with “I love you”, I’ll end it with “bye”. For me, it means the same thing when I say it to her.
She has made many sacrifices to give me various opportunities and I haven’t always shown my appreciation. Mum has contributed significantly into helping me be me and for that, I am grateful.
So while she may not be the greatest mum in the world, she is my Mum and she has done and continues to do a great job of that, especially since I’m not the easiest person to have as a daughter!
Bye Mum!
* Thanks to Paul Simon for the title to the post.
** Thanks for persevering to the end of this epic length post. Next week’s will be shorter!