Shall I be mother?

Dear Mum,

I’ve just got back ‘home’ and am slurping on a cup of tea. Sadly, my abode doesn’t smell nearly as heavenly as the family home did this morning.

Waking to the aroma of sweet luxuries browning in the oven is delightful. Generally speaking I don’t like being woken up. But a natural awakening by the scent of baking tickling my nostrils is very welcome.

I hope the tea party for Miranda’s retirement from primary school went well this afternoon. I was somewhat taken aback by the sight that greeted me as I followed the heavenly scent and wandered into the kitchen, bleary eyed, at 10 am.

My first observation was flour. It was everywhere. On the kettle, in your hair, on the hob, in the cutlery drawer, on Mary Berry’s face that stared at me from the breakfast table.

Second, scones. Dotted about every available space of worktop. “Good lord! How many scones have you made, Mum?” I asked, going to pick at one.

“Fifty!” you said, brushing my hand away, “One for every one going. You can have one of these substandard ones.”

You gestured toward a plate with two golden crowns, just as plump and glossy as the army of sufficient scones. I picked up a runt of the litter (a metaphor you didn’t appreciate) while you cut into one of the passable specimens and poked at its center, a look of disappointment on your face, clearly not content with the consistency.

“Well they all look delicious and everyone should appreciate the effort you and the rest of the committee have put in,” I waffled through a mouthful of scone.

You rocketed about the kitchen spreading buttercream on walnut cupcakes, thickening the cream for the Victoria sponge, and lining plates with patterned doilies. I made you a coffee purely to get you sitting down for five minutes.

You looked extremely motherly, with sugar glittering on the side of your nose and a bowl permanently tucked in the crook of your arm. I found it hugely comforting to have you standing before me, embodying the archetypal 1950’s image of a mother.

But times have changed. There I was, trying to comfort and mother you as you anxiously thought about school and impressing your friends. It’s one of those realities of life, that parent-child relationships are reversed as the child takes on more responsibility in family life. Actually, I rather enjoyed being mother.

Anyway, I hope school went well today, you break-up for Summer tomorrow! x