I’m living her dream life

When I was growing up my Mum made no secret of the fact that she felt trapped by marriage, and didn’t want children.

That makes her sound like a rotten mother (and in many respects because she was so selfish, she was) but in fact, she was probably ahead of her time.

She married my Dad in 1960. If she’d had been born five years later she would been part of the birth of feminism. She could have had her independence, her own business and remained unmarried.

She told me on the phone the other day that she wished she’d been born a lesbian. There’s a conversation stopper. And then added, “But I don’t fancy women so it wouldn’t have worked out.”

But now that she’s into her eighth decade, she often declares that her children are the most important things in her life. (I have a brother who is two years younger than me).

I wish I’d heard that more growing up but at least we got there in the end.

Because of my parent’s turbulent marriage I always craved the one thing I’ve never found – stability.

Ironically, I’ve ended up with the life that my mum thought she wanted.

I’m self-employed and unmarried. This is her dream. Isn’t it?

But here’s the thing: now that she’s seen how much I struggle, she admits that she had it easy, and tells me that maybe should have been more grateful for what she had.

She’s coming out here later in the year for a visit. I’m looking forward to it because I know we’ll have fun.

She’ll gain weight because she’s on holiday, and I’ll lose it because she’s tiny and I’m not. (She used to tell me growing up that I had ‘child-bearing hips’.)

We’ll talk non-stop for two and a half weeks, and put the world to rights.

Even if we can’t do it with our own lives.

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