Sometimes being a Mum is about acknowledging the woman who made you.

Today we had a big party with family and friends to celebrate my Mum’s 60th birthday.

We gathered and huddled and sang ‘happy birthday’ as she walked through the door and immediately welled up. Full of emotion from having all her favourite people in one place.

It was the best present I could think to give her. You know how it is, families and friends have their own lives and are scattered all over and long bouts of time pass before you see each other. I knew there was nothing she’d love more than time with loved ones.

Isn’t that what we’re all grasping for? Time with those we love?

It makes me think of her own Mum, my Nanny Vera, who sadly passed when I was about five or six, leaving Mum without any parents (my Grandad died when she was just seventeen).

More time was needed there. Time, that I know Mum would give anything for but alas, that is something I cannot give her.

And so, I get back to thinking of the woman who became a Mother when I was born. Young, nervous, full of hope. Slowly morphing from a young naive girl to who she is now.

My Mum is lots of things. Crude (she loves a fart joke), loyal, devoted, a feeder, increasingly forgetful, always up for a laugh and patient (amongst other things).

I am grateful for the love my Mum shows my children and the time she gives to them, despite living 200 miles away. She is the most constant relative in their life (outside of me and The Bearded Manc, of course) and makes a conscious effort to be part of their lives in a way nobody else does.

There is no other adult I trust as much with my children as I do her. And that’s saying something.

We are lucky to have her.

So, here’s to you, Nutty Nanny Sue.

Happy birthday.


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