Today is Mother’s Day. And rather than being in my hometown with my family, I’m sat on my bed, in London, thinking about all the reasons why I love my mammy. We’ve not had an easy year this year, but I feel like we’re back on exactly the same page again, and I can’t wait to see her give her a big cuddle, and tell her I love her, in just under three weeks.
Those of you who know my Mum will know what a truly remarkable woman she is. I know everyone is supposed to say that about their mother, but she is. Where she came from, and where she has got to are a true testament to her determination, tenacity and sheer resilience. She’s fallen down a time or two, but she has always pulled herself up, stronger than ever before. She’s more intelligent than she realises, she has more gaul than she dares to imagine, and every time I think about what she has achieved in her life, especially over the last five or six years, I feel truly, truly proud. I love telling people what my Mum does. I consider her to be a pioneer in her trade, a visionary, and a force to be reckoned with. She knows what she wants, and she’ll usually get it.
But she’s not only a business woman. She’s a mother, and I’m glad to say she’s my mother, my Mammy. She smells like ironing (which she thinks is an insult, but it’s not, it’s one of the most comforting smells I know). She doesn’t laugh as much as I wish she did, but when she does it’s one of my favourite things. She doesn’t mind if I tell her she’s spelt something wrong, even though me correcting her bedtime stories when I was a child made her stop reading to me. She makes a mean Yorkshire Pudding. Scrap that, she makes a bloody fantastic chicken dinner, bread sauce always included. She always says exactly what you need to hear, even if she doesn’t say it quite the way she wants to. She’s supportive and she’s kind. She makes me cry when I need to, and makes me laugh when she wants to. She knows exactly how to make me shout if I need to do that too, she’s one of the few people that can these days.
My mum is special. She gives lovely warm cuddles, and even though I’m now 23 years old and a good few inches taller than her, when I get one of those cuddles I feel like a little girl again. I miss her a lot, living down here. I miss all of my family a lot. When I lived closer, I didn’t take advantage of what was just down the road. Now quite often I wish she, they, were still down the road (but close to London, because I love it here. Fancy it guys?).
My mum is the matriarch of a strong, albeit slightly dysfunctional family. She’s got a strong man beside her, and two daughters who love her very much, though I know I don’t say it enough. She’s also now got a rather gorgeous (I swear, I’m not biased, honest) Grandson to throw into the mix. We’re not a straightforward family, but we’re a family. And I am proud to be a Purkiss. And I’m proud to be daughter number 2 of Alison Purkiss.
Big up your Mammy today, and every day.