Happy Mammy’s Day! Firstly, I would like to say that today has been the most I’ve struggled with motivation to get my steps done. Secondly, I am sure you have a wonderful mother of your own, or perhaps you are one, but my mother is the best. Hands down. Yours might be high up there on the list of awesome mothers but mine will be number one. Thirdly, I plan on using this blog as a platform for telling you just how fab she is.
For as long as I can remember, my Mama has been my friend. I am sure there were times (I was a bit of an asshole as a preteen) when I didn’t always realise how brilliant she is or that when she said “No” to something, it really was for my own good. I had friends as a teenager who didn’t always see eye to eye with their mum but I never really understood why as my mum was (still is) wonderful and we never really fought.
I definitely wouldn’t have said that Mama was strict but I definitely knew what was expected from me and, on the whole, I tried my best to make her proud. What I love about her parenting is that she really knows how different me and my sisters are. Yes, we’re all good people, with strong work ethics, strength in our convictions (stubbornness may run in our family but we still haven’t decided who is the most stubborn. It’s currently a three way tie), we all know right from wrong, we all have a very strong connection but we’re also three very independent individuals on three differing paths.
I always knew that Gayle is kinder and more nurturing than me and that Gillian is smarter and more caring but I never felt that their wonderful qualities were greater than mine. We were all encouraged to be ourselves, to be unique, to be different from each other.
This has always been a huge comfort to me as I am the only member of the family with tattoos, mutliple piercings in my head and a tendency to dress like an idiot. My Mama never really dissuaded me from expressing myself through my appearance. Though, and I love her all the more for it, I have some fond stories of her reactions to some of my choices.
I always wanted my ears pierced from the age of 8. Mama said no, as I was too young then, but if I still wanted them done, I could get them done when I was fourteen. “Fine!” Says asshole 7-11 year old Calli, in a bit of a strop “I’ll wait.” So I did and true to her word, I got the first set done on my 14th birthday. By 16, I had three sets in each ear and one cartilage done. Weirdly, the more I got, the more Mama liked them. Though she did put her foot down when I said I was thinking of getting my lip pierced. On the basis that Mama wouldn’t like it, I didn’t go through with it. I was 24.
From talking me out of getting my lip pierced to telling me to drop out of uni (“Why go back? You hate it. It’s literally making you sick.”) From talking me down from each and every high horse I ever decide to climb on (“Not everyone sees things like you do, Cazzikins”) to supporting me through my weird journey to becoming a Mammy (first reaction “Oh Lord”) From talking me through panic buying scratch mitts to listening to me cry as a flood of hormones (bad hormones) that I wasn’t used to took over my usually tearless life, Mama has always let me make my own decisions (right or wrong), has never judged me for making the wrong decision but has always trusted me to do the right thing. I am so, so blessed and thankful. I am the luckiest daughter ever and I couldn’t do any of this without her.
The best thing about my Mama is everything. The worst thing is that we don’t live in the same city.
Back to today. Today was hard as Wee Daftie had a really bad night. Neither of us got much sleep and both ended up with a much later start thanks to us both (finally) collapsing into sleep in the early hours. A mix of coughing, teething and mucus kept waking my poor girl from her sleep. That said, I have a mission to do so my Big Human took us three out for a fab drive and a lovely walk in the amazing sunshine today. Thankfully once she was up, she was in lovely form, just the night was rough. Ended up finishing my steps with another post Daftie bedtime jaunt.
Nobody puts baby in a corner. We do however put her in a box.
Travels With My Daftie 