As I wrote a post about my Dad two days ago it is only fair that I write one about my Mum!
The 'peek-a-boo' theme seemed perfect with this picture of the two of us, me peeking from under my wedding veil.
Also my own youngest daughter is right at an age where she enjoys very much playing peek-a-boo, learning that even if Mummy disappears she doesn't pop out of existence but reappears a bit later. That's why I added Mother and Daughter in my title.
My Mum made my wedding dress. It's in itself no mean feat to undertake such a work, she also had to do it with me being hundred of kilometres away and across the sea. And I was three months pregnant on my wedding day. It turned out she didn't need to alter the body of the dress, just the cleavage!
My Mum was a nurse. She stopped working when my brother was born and helped my Dad in his work (he worked from home). She started to work again as a nurse some 21 years later, in A&E but the way she talked about her work was generally more Scrubs than Casualty.One of her favourite stories was one of an agitated patient who had seized the duty doctor around the neck, and the doctor, who was short, had been lifted off the ground and was gesticulating madly.
Like my Dad, my Mum is very scatty, which explains a lot about me... She is always losing her keys, or purse, or glasses. If she asks you to get something for her it's almost never where she thought it was. Once, we were visiting Mottisfont Abbey and she'd left her raincoat behind. I had to go back from the car to one of the furthest parts of the estate to retrieve it. But then I suppose she must have done things similar for me when I was a child, as I have done for my children on number of times.
Something that always makes us laugh about my Mum is that she is utterly transparent. She can't hide anything. If you want her to shush in front of other people and, for example, give her a nudge under the table she will exclaim "Why are you kicking me?!" That is an inexhaustible source of entertainment for DH and I.
My Mum is a good cook but she's got a bit of a reputation for burning things. I think that watching things simmer, stirring, checking, in short waiting, doesn't really match her personnality. She needs to be doing something else at the same time, the same way that she is always knitting when she watches the television.
There are so many other things that I could say about my Mum. I suppose that to picture my Dad you need quite big, 'extravert' and colourful strokes, whether my Mum's portrait is more in lots of little things, little shiny specs of sand that make the wole beach glow under the sun.
I love her very, very dearly too!