Janet Christie’s Mum’s the Word - why just being there counts

Kids are the gift that keep on giving

Mum's the Word Pic: Adobe

“Did you ever regret your decision to have children? asks a friend. A good question and I’m relieved to find my answer is an immediate, “No, never.”

After a moment’s reflection I add, “But I remember I did give the first one a lot of thought because you’re signing up for a lifetime.”

Whenever I think my work here is done and no matter my many failings as a parent, I find I’m still required.

First Youngest comes home from work with a tiny scrape on her finger hidden under a big blue plaster. (You’d think hospitality would favour a less alarming flesh toned dressing).

“Look. I had to deal with it all on my own,” she says.

“Oh, poor you. Big grave girl etc etc.” Job done.

Then Middle arrives with his van which he’s selling so we can help him get it clean inside. Sigh, but I did offer. Youngest and I drag ourselves outside, me carrying a bowl of soapy water, her up for a carry-on in which someone gets soaked. As he slides back the doors I’m braced for a scene of devastation: a mattress, patchouli-impregnated wall hangings, a scarred side table, multiple mouldy hoodies and junk food wrappers, but it’s already pristine.

“Oh yeah, I’ve done it,” he says. “I wanted you to check what I’d missed,” so we set to polishing, Middle and Youngest making the windows sparkle in between flicking clothes at each other and me in the driving seat playing with the wheel and looking for sweets until another van driving past clips the wing mirror, doing no damage to ours but smashing his own. Gratifyingly he assumes I’m the driver and apologises profusely while picking up plastic and I beam, chuffed he thinks I’m capable of driving this monster van while Middle conducts a back and forth “awright chief nae bother” kind of chat and all’s well.

“Great, it’s all done, thank you,” says Middle, and drives off happy. It seems all he wanted was his family joining in.

Later, Eldest arrives in the small hours after work, accidently locked out from his own flat where his partner is sleeping like a baby, ear plugs in and communication devices sensibly stashed in another room, so he settles down on the sofa.

“Thanks Mum, you’re a life saver,” he says as he dozes off.

Really, it was nothing. I was just here.

Janet Christie’s Mum’s the Word