The Saturday List #432 - Ten things about my Mum that I didn't appreciate when she was alive

Mum and I in 1983  
When I was the bane of her life

Tomorrow is my least favourite day of the year. It is Mothers day. As my Mum died sixteen years ago, all it does is remind me of the fact that she's dead. There are people who are good children and there are people who are terrible. I am definitely in the terrible category. I have six siblings and I think I caused my parents more upset and grief than the rest of them put together. Although they had their ups and downs with my parents, none of them ever sought conflict and arguments in the way that I did when I was younger. If they did something that my parents wouldn't like, they would try and keep it quiet. I couldn't be bothered with all of that. In some ways, I was lucky, being the youngest. They couldn't be bothered having the same arguments with me. Whereas, when my elder brother and sister caused massive rows with my parents when they chose to live with, rather than marry partners, with me they actually seemed pleased that someone might calm me down. If I thought they were wrong, I'd tell them and not back down. All of my brothers and sisters did well educationally and all did post school education of some sort. I didn't. I went through several periods of not talking to them, following perfectly avoidable rows. When I was living at home and they went away, I had parties where valuables were nicked. Not only that but I found my Dad's stash of good wines and polished it off with my mates. Whereas my Brothers waited until they left home to stop going to Church, I just announced I'd had enough of it all at 14 and refused to go. My parents were both religious and this hurt them. 

When my mum became frail and housebound, we became a lot closer. One day I was chatting to her and she confided that her and my father were driven to their wits end by my behaviour as a teenager. She said that she couldn't believe it when I actually got a job and started doing OK. She said that my Father had changed his view of me before he passed away in 1987. He'd realised that what he'd not appreciated was that I was my own person and he'd come to respect that. She said that it had taken her a lot longer, as she always had felt that we were just one cross word away from a row. I look back on those years and I realised that there were many things I didn't appreciate about my mother. Here are the top ten.

1. I didn't appreciate that she'd worked hard for everything she had. As a kid, you just take it all for granted. Before I was born, my father had serious medical issues and she had to keep the family fed, clothed and housed, during his long periods in hospital. They ran a car repair business and she had to deal with a pretty unruly workforce. It cannot have been easy.

2. I didn't appreciate the way she dealt with monstrous health issues. My mother was told in 1970 that she had stomach cancer and that she would die within three years. I was seven years old. She was told that even if the total gastrectomy she had was successful, it would just buy her a couple of years to get her house in order. No one survived longer than that. She died in 2008 and from completely unrelated issues. It was only when I was diagnosed with cancer that I fully appreciated what she'd come through and how much she shielded us from her problems.

3. I didn't appreciate her intelligence. She came from a working class Irish family who had nothing. She completely reinvented herself and was the brains in the organisation. My Dad would have spent every penny the second he earned it. My mum was the one who made the business successful. Not only that, she was incredibly well read. Almost until the end of her life, she read three books a week. She hated the fact that I was so thick as a child, in the remedial reading group at St Vincents. Dyslexia wasn't appreciated then. She found ways to get me reading, buying comics and telling me that they were just as good as books. With the pictures, it made it easier to work out what was going on. I think many parents of six children might have given up on the last one.

4. I didn't appreciate why she was reliant on alcohol. After my mum was diagnosed with cancer, she was advised by her surgeon to drink as much Guinness as she could "to keep her weight up". In 1984, she asked him if 8 pints a night was too much. He replied that there were two ways of looking at it. Everyone else on the planet who had the operation she had in 1970 was dead, so it must be doing some good, but maybe cut it back to three a night and see how it went. She always listened, but would top it up with a scotch at night to "help her sleep". I though she was just a bit of drinker (being polite), but now realise it actually got her through.

5. I didn't appreciate her cooking skills. You get home and you get your dinner. 99% of the time, I loved it. It was only when she made tripe and onions and brawn that I didn't. I especially loved the bread and butter puddings she made and the stodgy dishes like toad in the hole. She always encouraged us to cook and gave me a love for it. I just took that for granted.

6. I didn't appreciate her political acumen. My mum was a socialist, Dad was a Tory. She would read the Guardian every day. As a small business owner, she would always say "Small businesses do better under Labour, but most owners only think of tax, so are too stupid to see the full picture". She explained that Labour put money into the economy, so people have money to spend. Tories take money out and put up interest rates, so that only the people with old money and savings benefit. I could chat for hours about politics with her. I was pleased when she once told me "You are the only one of my kids who really understands the issues". I have always taken an interest in economics and had some fascinating debates with her. She could have been a very successful economist if she'd had the right opportunities. When I listen to Rachel Reeve I am reminded of my mothers intellect for such matters. It is only now, with hindsight that I really see this.

7. I didn't appreciate her generosity. My Dad used to joke that my mother was a skinflint and a miser, because she counted the pennies and got exasperated with his spending. In hindsight, I realise she was actually very generous, but only in a way she though was sustainable or where people deserved it. She gave a lot of time and money to charity. She would rage against people who helped her at the Church jumble sale and would pilfer the best items. She fell out with a few 'ardent churchgoers' who she caught nicking at the Church jumble sales. My father would say "So what, it's pennies". She would reply "That makes it worse". She wanted the money to go to where it should go.

8. I didn't appreciate her glamour. She was my mum. I didn't want a glamourous mum, but she was. She always made the best of herself. When she had a massive stroke in 2001 and aged 20 years in three seconds, I was horrified to see the change. She was in hospital for six months. When she came out, she couldn't communicate effectively. I would sit and drink a Guinness with her and try and get her talking, even if I couldn't understand a word. Eventually, I found that when she was relaxed, after a couple of Guinness, she could communicate. I said "Mum, is there anything I can do?". She said "Yes, I want my hair done". I arranged to take her to the salon. I explained to Sue, her hairdresser that she was very different. Sue said "I don't care, if she wants her hair done, I'll do it". She went there and when she came back, she was like a new person. The salon shut shortly after, so Sue would visit her at home. It was the best therapy she could have. In truth, especially when I was younger, she embarrassed me. I wanted a dowdy mum, who didn't want to stand out from the crowd. How stupid I was.

9. I didn't appreciate the fact that she loved me. My mum was not demonstrative. She wasn't a hugger. I always thought that she'd have been happier if I'd not been around, as I caused so much grief. I took her to France, the week before she died and she told me that life was a strange thing and that the best thing of all for her was her kids. I said "Even me?". Her response shocked me. She said "You were by far the most difficult, but you've always told me the truth. I love you for that". It was an honest answer. When we struggle with our children, we have to remind ourselves that they are special and unique. When they upset us, they are just being themselves. She told me that once she realised that when we argued, I was not doing it to upset her, she said she found she no longer got quite so upset with me. I never really appreciated that until I thought about it after she went.

10. I didn't appreciate the amazing support she gave me in my music business. I wouldn't have a studio without my mum's support. She gave me the opportunity to rent the space from her and gave me invaluable advice on how to run a business. The studio always paid its way and she never bailed me out, although she did loan me money to do a couple of developments, when I persuaded her the business case stacked up. In 1990, three years after my Dad died, she was considering selling the industrial estate she managed. She was retiring and didn't want the hassle of tenants. I persuaded her to let me and one of my sisters and one of my brothers take on the day to day running. My sister, who is a barrister did the legal side, my brother, who was on site did the maintenance and I handled lease negotiations with tenants and drew up a plan to improve the yard and boost earnings.  Years after, she confided that she never intended to sell the yard, but knew that if she told me that, I'd step up. We ensured that she had a good income in her later years. The arrangement was formalised a few years later and we are still going and running a thriving estate with a successful music business.

God bless you Mum and thank you. I am sorry that I took so long to appreciate you. Happy Mothers Day.