This morning my daughter Chantal reminded me of the funny little quirks my late mother had. I am sure I have plenty of odd traits as well and I can certainly be very ‘blonde’ at times. The rest of the family seem to see the joke before I do and I am usually a mile behind. My family tend to play on this, so I am often falling foul of their mischievous tricks. At least I am a source of entertainment.
I once recall my son telling me about his friend’s boat that was moored in Te Atatu, “By the way, Dave’s boat sunk” he said. I replied saying ‘Oh really? Was there something wrong with it?” I then got the usual “Oh Mum” as my son shook his head in disbelief. My family call moments like these ‘Kay-isms'.
My Mother was similar to me, and we could really have her on. Mother wanted to always appear so proper; she was a real ‘Mrs Bouquet’. Only when she had one or two glasses of sherry would she let her guard down.
When I was young, we often visited my aunty and uncle in Christchurch. The drive back home to Ashburton took around two hours in those days. To pass the time Mother loved to sing at the top of her voice. Somehow, she had the idea that she had a great singing voice. The rest of the family did not agree but that did not stop her. My Dad was not the world’s best driver and would tend to be a bit erratic, so Mother’s singing would get faster and higher as she got more nervous, hence my head would be ringing by the time we got home. (I do not know how many times she sang Edelweiss; it almost put me off the song).
Mother would sing her lungs out in church as well, just like my granddad. The two of them together were just horrendous. I used to hang my head with embarrassment. Granddad was slightly better than Mother but oh boy…I tried to find an excuse not to go along with them but sadly I would fail to be let off. My father was the bright one, he always offered to stay home and cook the Sunday roast. Why wasn’t I smart enough to insist he needed my help?
Whenever our family went out for a meal my Mother would order what she wanted to eat, would see what everyone else had ordered and subsequently ask “can I try a little of that dear? It was so funny, we all knew what was coming and it became a standing joke. Mother never wanted to look greedy and always wanted to appear to be a lady at all times. She loved to dress up and look her best. I hardly ever saw her without a bit of lippy on and she always smelt nice.
Mother would love a little sherry. When you would pour it for her, she would say, “just up to here dear” but gradually her finger would rise. It became quite a family joke. She also loved to bake; we had cakes of all descriptions coming out our ears. No wonder we all got a little rotund. My husband would love to go and visit her on a Sunday to see what delectable treats she had made. We would come back home armed with a pile of cakes and hand made sweets, which kept my husband and the children happy.
Gosh, it really is funny how like our parents we start to become. Over the past few weeks, I have gone into a Friday frenzy baking cakes. When the family arrive home from work, I will always say, “Try this”. I am sure they are starting to wonder where this baking is is heading. It is certainly not good for those of us trying to loose some weight! I think they are wondering if I am becoming my mother.
My mother did teach me a lot. I am very grateful for her wisdom, her strength of character and for being there for me always (and trying to teach me how to cook).
I know in the early years of my marriage I was a dreadful cook and my poor husband really had to endure some frightful meals. He always was so kind and graciously consumed what I put in front of him. I am sure he would often go to bed with indigestion.
What would we do without our Mums? They are always there for us, they guide us, and they encourage and support our decision-making. I have some wonderful memories of my mother. I feel I was fortunate to grow up in the late forties and fifties when life was simple and uncomplicated. My parents supported me even when I insisted I could play the piano and ended up being useless. They gave me the opportunity, for that I am grateful. I count myself lucky; they helped me become who I am today.
By Kay Rayner
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