I finally appreciate my mother.
A love letter to the woman who raised me.
It is any term-time Tuesday between 2012 and 2014. My mum drops me off at our local leisure centre (attached to my school) at 6:15am, ready for me to do my first swimming session of the day. She then heads an hour in the opposite direction for work. Once we are both home, she cooks me dinner, tidies up and helps with my homework, then drives 30-ish minutes to a different leisure centre for my second swim. We get home at around 10pm. Somewhere in that day, I have likely done something to upset her - probably unintentionally, possibly not.
This is just one day in seven, in one period of time, where my mum would bend over backwards for me.
I was always grateful for everything she did, even when I didn’t show it, but now I’m a little older I finally get just how exhausting all of this must have been.
Now I’m a fully-fledged adult, I can empathise
Just over eight months ago, my boyfriend and I moved in together and we began living completely independently of our parents for the first time.
I come home from work - exhausted - and clean and cook and do all the never-ending admin that comes with adulthood, then collapse onto the sofa for the evening or do something I want to do. The thought of having to help a child with homework or leave the house again to watch them swim up and down for two hours genuinely gives me the fear (clearly, I am not yet ready for parenthood).
Don’t even start me on having some hormonal teenager picking fights for the sake of it - no thank you.
Finally, I can empathise with my mother. Where I once appreciated what she did on a surface level, I now understand just how hard she worked during that period of her life, and how tiring it must have been to keep us both afloat. She did so much of it on her own, too… she really is a superhero.
“Thank you.”
In January I spent almost a week living with my mum again, just the two of us like old times (plus her new fur babies). Her husband, who usually works remotely, was away at a conference and they needed a hand with the dogs. Like I would ever say no to that request.
During that time I lived (almost) like my teenage self again, except for the fact I now work full-time, I tidy up after myself and I’m much less of a bitch. But each night my dinner was cooked and I had virtually no stress - because my mum was there, making it all easy.
Towards the end of the few days, I unintentionally made her cry. Not the way I might have done 10 years ago, but because I simply acknowledged her efforts over all those years. I would always say thank you whenever she did anything, but we both knew this gratitude had come from a deeper place.
As I get further and further into my 20s, my mum and I get closer and closer. I look forward to the time spent with her, which I cherish, and we text daily and speak on the phone regularly. If I’m proud of something, concerned about something, or just want to share part of my day with someone, she is the first person to be contacted.
I thought the opposite may happen, as I grew up and learned to navigate the world by myself, but it turns out I still need my mum just as much (if not more) as I did all those years ago.
Our moms are superheroes. The more I grow, the more I want to spend time with my mom. Very beautiful piece of writing by the way. You inspire me to write an article about my mom too (even though it's a little bit late from Mother's Day)
I loved this -- as a new mom, I wonder so much about what the teenage years will be like, while at the same time remembering mine. Our relationships with our mothers are so complicated and important. (Just hit subscribe, too. Excited to read more of your writing!)