It seems this month is all about Mum’s and their miracle, wonderful bodies. This is a letter to my own beautiful Mum. Our crazy, flower loving, Rod Stewart obsessed Mumma and the only person in the world who gets emotional over ‘Cheaper by the Dozen 2’.
She also got bitten by a dog once, did you know?
This is a love letter to my menopausal Mum, although she is so, so much more than that.
We are entering your birthday month and this year it’s a big one! Apparently you should never disclose a woman’s age, but I know you’re not one for gender traditions. You are proud to be a nearly 60 year old woman, who let’s face it, looks bloody radiant all of the time. Even after falling in a bush or scaling the wall because you’ve locked yourself out of the house… again. You define the phrase ‘age is just a number’ every day.
But let’s start at the beginning in 1993 when your first, favourite child was born… ME!
I came out with a triangular shaped head, which has thankfully rounded throughout the years and a very grumpy face. Thus the nickname ‘Baby Grumpling’ was born, which you still use to this day when I’m having one of my many meltdowns on how unfair life is. You have always kept me in check, never letting me wallow in self-pity and instead, pick me up off the floor, dust me off, hold my hand and pass me a glass of wine. You are a life guru, the one I come to for all my vagina advice and the first woman I ever loved.
In 1994 out come baby number two; a nearly 10lb bundle of blubber, whose elbow got inadvertently stuck on its way out. You gave me a little brother to love, dress up and read to in the bath. This brother started called me Fufu or Fufs (still does) which is pretty apt seeing as now I write a blog all about FUF!
4 years later, you sat us down at the kitchen table and told us we were going to have a new baby brother or sister in time for the millennium. I thought this was the worst idea ever. Actually, said baby has turned out to be the best, most normal and sweetest, out of us all. We love him. And we all love each other now, even if it took us a while to get here! Three births, three babies, three times you pushed humans out of your vagina. What a wonder woman! Although none of us look like you (we’ve all got Dad’s big honker), we got our love for the arts, our creativity, our craziness, and compassion, all from you.
When I thought I had cervical cancer, I came straight to you. I explained every detail to you, every detail of my vagina and my sex life, even though you didn’t know I had a boyfriend at this point. You simply wrapped me up in a big hug and told me I was going to be okay. Then came all of the appointments. You came to every single one, never complained, never said you had somewhere else to be. You were there making sure I’d worn my comfiest pants. We cried, we laughed, we cried and laughed at the same time – a speciality of ours.
You came into my first colposcopy so that I wasn’t alone and looked at my cervix on a screen so that I didn’t have to. You propped me up on cushions after my surgery, made me peanut butter on toast and then showed me your interpretation of a ‘squat’ to make me laugh. I would not have got through that time without you, or Dad (a special shout out to Dad too. Dad, you’re the absolute tits and have to listen to me talk about my fanny all the time, I’m sorry. Thank you for always sending me vagina related news articles and liking every single Gash Gossip related post. I love you.) You’re both simply the best, better than all the rest.
Mumma, I most admire how much you have embraced your ‘wiser years’. You’ve entered them with grace, a couple more swear words and a never ending grin. Even when times are tough and things are falling apart, you keep it all together. You’ve had your own trips down Gynae Lane and kept your sense of humour and optimism throughout. Sleepless nights, sweaty nights, hot flushes, all the emotions, aches, pains, more sleepless nights, one ‘doughnut’ and a couple of quick escapes from the dinner table to cool down in the front garden. You’ve taken it all in your stride, even though I know you’ve felt like tearing your hair out at times.
You are an amazing woman, mother, female figure, inspiration, wife, daughter, sister, business woman, gardener, baker, cook, hand-holder, gin & tonic maker, listener, emoji-user, agony aunt, advice giver and the only person who actually likes the ‘Cheerleader’ song. (I’m lying, I like it too. I’m just trying to be cool.
“Alexa, play Cheerleader! Oooh I think that I found myself a Cheerleader!”)
Thank you for helping me put my first tampon in, telling me that discharge was normal, talking to me about sex, washing my knickers, force feeding my friends broccoli, buying me pads, driving to school to give me pads, driving me to the hospital, hugging me after break ups, standing on the other side of the toilet door when it hurt to wee, telling me life can be ‘pants’ sometimes, dancing with me in the kitchen and all of the crying and laughing.
I hope to be even half of the Mum you are one day. When I have children, they will be begging me to go to Granny & Grumps because you are and will be so loved.
I could not ask for better, I’ll love you forever.
Baby Grumpling x