This week I'm away on retreat and although looking forward to it there's one thing I'm really going to miss... and that's No 2 son's 25th birthday on Wednesday. I suddenly feel like the worst mother, putting her own things before that of her child.
Of course I'm not actually sure he would have thanked me for hiving myself off down to Bristol to force him to take me out clubbing and embarrass the hell out of him (yet again).
My first complete coup de grace in that department was when I had stick on fruit baskets as a bikini top... no pics you'll just have to use your imagination... when the eldest was about 6. My mother had brought me a pack of four from the States for a laugh and I had put them on and paraded round the garden. The boys were horrified, terrified, mortified and begged me never wear them again, especially not anywhere that I might be seen. The last two in the pack were brought out on many occasions as in: "if you don't behave I'll just have to put on my fruit baskets", and became known from thence forth as 'the ultimate weapon'. A godsend for any parent I'm sure you'll agree. Interestingly I still have the last two. I never had to use them, so they absolutely worked a dream.
No, far better that I go to Birmingham and contemplate my navel and leave No 1 son to go and spend bonding fraternal time instead... not that he won't insist on being taken out clubbing and embarrassing the hell out of him, but it's different if it's your brother rather than your mother.
That sounds like a good mother to me, as long as you don't make the Beloved go out clubbing in his place!!! xx
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