Category: being a mother (good, bad, indifferent)

Tonight at tea, I told my children that I was in the final of the ‘Most Fantastic Mother in Adelaide’ competition and if I won I would get two million dollars.

They said, not quite but almost in unison, ‘Can we have one thousand dollars to buy a Wii?’ And I said, ‘Sure.’ And then they said, pretty much in unison this time, ‘And can we have one thousand dollars to buy an x-box?’ And I said, ‘Sure.’

And then I said that to win the competition, I just had to get each of my children to say ‘my Mum is fantastic’ ten times.

So they said, ten times each, ‘My Mum is fantastic’.

And then they yelled, at the tops of their voices, just to be sure, ‘And she rocks’.

In the mornings, he perches himself on the toilet (its lid is down), and he watches me.

‘I won’t ask you questions while you clean your teeth.’ It’s a lesson he has learned.

I rinse my mouth then turn quickly and flick water at him.

‘Mum!’ He gives the smile which knows much more than it used to know. ‘You can see I’ve already got my school clothes on.’

I pump facecream onto my fingertips, rub it lightly into my nose, my chin, my neck and across my collarbone.

‘Can I have some?’

He closes his eyes and tilts his chin towards me. The skin at the top of his cheeks is not as smooth as it used to be, but still it is smoother than mine.  I brush my finger against his cheek more times than it takes to rub the face cream in.

I go back to the sink and the mirror and brush powder on my cheeks.

‘Why do you wrap your towel around your head?’

‘To help my hair dry.’

‘Oh.’

He stands on the scales I brought home from my grandfather’s house.

‘Hey! I’m more than I used to be.’

‘That’s good. That must mean you’ve grown.’

‘Do you want to be less?’

‘Less what?’

‘Less than you used to be.’

I begin to unwrap the towel and rub lightly at my hair.

‘Sort of. But that’s not really it…I just wanted to start going to to the gym and doing more exercise because I wanted to make sure I didn’t get too sad…if you don’t do enough exercise it can be hard to stay happy.’

‘But Mum!’ He looks up at me now. His eyes are brown. Why does that still surprise me? ‘You’re already heaps happy!’

Buoyed by the joy of after-school baking,

and of the sight of youngest boy lifting his chin over the top of the bench so that he could better catch a view of the cooling cakes (rock),

I said,

as I watched them wolf down their third,

‘There’s nothing like rock cakes hot from the oven, is there’

to which eldest boy replied,

‘Well, yes, except you know when you’re really busting for a wee, and you finally get to the toilet…that feels great’.

When the rubbish truck goes past, its loud stop, start, stop, start, makes me think of the days – increasingly distant as they are – when youngest boy had not yet started school, and he ran to the door, or the window if the door was closed, and watched the rubbish truck moving down the road, and I wish I had more often stood in the hall and stared at the curls on the back of my growing boy’s head.

So, my eldest boy’s off to a birthday party at Hungry Jack’s.

‘I hardly ever get to do that,’ he said. I wish I could describe his demeanour to you. He has done one of those moves to a new maturity. Breaks your heart for a tiny moment, doesn’t it?

‘Really,’ I said. It was just a word to fill in the space.

‘Yeah. Remember? After soccer, we only got to go two times.’

‘Yes.’

‘You know, Mum, I just want to be with my friends. I mean, I don’t have to eat it.’

*fast forward fifteen years: geez, you were uptight mum, i mean it’s not as if once a year would’ve killed us*

Sigh.

Bet my boy wishes he could have Kerry Armstrong for his mother. Did you see her in this weekend’s Good Weekend? It’s worth looking for. Helpfully, she debunks a few Coca Cola myths – you can read about them here. Make up your own mind and all. But the best bit is her opening letter to us ill-informed persons who continue to quench our children’s thirst with water.

“Kerry Armstrong on Motherhood & Myth-Busting.

As a mother I am often bombarded with conflicting messages about food and drinks – one day something is good for you and the next day it’s bad and that can be confusing

Yes, I know that’s good, but I can’t choose which of the following is my favourite sentence:

When I was asked to speak out in favour of one of the world’s largest brands, ‘Coca-Cola’, it became clear that it was surrounded y all kinds of myths and conjecture.

I mean that’s good. But is it better than:

Now that I’ve found out what’s myth and what’ isn’t. It’s good to know that our family can continue to enjoy one of our favourite drinks. My boys now call me Mum, the Myth Buster.

Still. Who am I to judge? My boys call me Tracy.

Leaving the market carpark just now, I saw a man in a car which would soon be vintage were it not so beaten up, and he held, between his lips, a cigarette in one of those plastic filters that you used to see around the time his car was made.

It made me think, the following thought which will one day lead to greater thoughts: when my mother wasn’t giving up smoking, she was talking about giving up smoking.

For example, while typing out that thought, I have just now thought: at BBQs, she would open the filter up and use a match to scrape at the tar, then hold the match in her eyeline and say ‘that’s what’s not in my lungs’.

You’re right, mum.

‘Mum, we need you.’

‘Yeah, can you get the ball…’

‘Can’t you get it yourselves?’

‘Well, I’m afraid of the dark and he can’t climb the fence.’