I don’t take it for granted that mum is just over the hedge

As we celebrate Mother’s Day, EMMA CONNOLLY reflects on the luxury and reassurance of having her mother so close by – and not just for herself, but for her own daughter, too.

MY daughter calls my mother ‘mom,’ and it’s always gas to see the heads turn when we’re out and about, as people try to figure out our relationships.

What happened was that we moved in with her when she was a baby when we were building our own house.

It was only meant to be for a few months, three at most but you know how these things go, we were there for over a year.

Someone remarked at the time that my mother ‘made a great hand at rearing’ my daughter which I was a bit affronted by, but they had a point. It takes a village and all the rest.

When we moved out, literally over the hedge, there were tears all round, even if we could have opened our windows and held hands.

I’m of an age where I don’t take for granted how nice it is to have mum next door – also handy when you run out of milk or loo roll – and how lucky my daughter is to have such easy access to ‘mom’ who, in fact, she’s named after.

I actually grew up living beside my paternal nan and had a lovely friendship with her, so it’s nice to see it happening again with the next generation.

Emma's mum with Emma when she was a toddler herself.

Don’t get me wrong, though it’s not all sunshine and roses. We have our moments, but in general we have a nice dynamic going on.

There’s something in it for everyone – small people generally lift the mood with their positive energy and help keep things light; older people are great with advice from the college of life and to remind us not to sweat the small stuff; and middle-aged people like me ... I’m not sure what I bring to the table ... the dinners, maybe?

When I was asked to write this piece, it struck me that I was very lucky that mum was always at the end of the phone, regardless of where I was in the world, and that’s a really secure feeling to have.

Now, it didn’t mean she was always there to tell me I was brilliant, or to soft-soap me.

She might be my numberone champion but she’s also very honest.

I remember faffing about in Dublin after graduating, waiting for The Irish Times to call with a job offer.

She rang me to say she had seen an ad for a junior reporter in Mayo (which may as well have been the Outer Hebrides to me) and to get my application in pronto or there’d be, well … just do it.

Before I knew what was happening I was installed behind a desk on the western front learning the trade, but that shove was exactly what I needed. And there have been plenty of other ‘shoves’ over the years, too.

She’s also great one for shooting from the hip. Some of her classics include: ‘Are you wearing that? I’ve seen nicer on you,’ and ‘Are you back on the wine, you look a bit puffy?’

Only your mother could get away with it.

She has suffered loss and challenges, who hasn’t? But she’s the strongest person I know, still with a soft centre.

My oldest sister, and mum’s first born, is Down Syndrome and was born in the early 70s, a radically different Ireland to now.

The doctor’s advice was to ‘take her home’ and not to expect much. They obviously didn’t know my mother.

With the support of her own mother and sister, two other fabulous women, she set about giving her the same chances as my next sister who arrived 13 months later.

She campaigned for services and special classes to be set up in West Cork and, most importantly of all, she helped other mothers who were in the same situation. She still does.

Since I’ve become a mother myself I’ve learned several nuggets – Christmas doesn’t just happen by magic; you’re only ever as happy as your child is; and you won’t always feel like going to the beach, but you do anyway.

Looking back now, I have so much more admiration for my own mother.

Flicking through the photo albums of my youth, I’m also wildly impressed at her commitment to ‘keeping herself.’ There were actual heels worn at birthday parties (and those were the days when you couldn’t buy all the stuff in!) and her only acknowledgement of ‘leisure wear’ was a track suit – with shoulder pads! (She despairs of my fondness for the Sweaty Betty’s)

She admits now how awful the empty nest syndrome was, and the worry of us being off doing our own thing, but she kept that to herself and we were always given the freedom to do whatever we wanted – within reason.

It was a bit of a miracle that I became a mum, and she held my hand through all the ups and downs on that journey and there were lots of them.

She has six gorgeous grandsons but my smallie is her only granddaughter and is referred to as ‘the icing on the cake’ which is ... sweet!

These days I might think I know it all, but she’s always the first person I turn to or call if there’s a crisis or a drama, if I’ve a ‘bit of news’ or if I just need to vent.

Mother’s Day is a bit of a ‘makey-uppy’ day in my book, and one heaped with emotion for lots of reasons, so I don’t put too much emphasis on it.

Having said that, it’s always a nice reminder to appreciate all the nurturing mother figures in our lives, whatever their title.

Sure where would we be without Mum?