DEAR MUM, YOU’D BE SO PROUD

Dear Mum,

It’s a big week here. Remember when you and Neville flew over the ditch to visit and meet your first grandchild?

That little baby boy is graduating from high school today.

I know.

 width=He was just six weeks old when you held him and told me you were worried you wouldn’t know how to be a grandparent. Remember how he was a slip of a thing because I was a first-time mum and didn’t realise I was starving him with my lack of milk supply?

Remember how he didn’t really even grumble about that? I should have known then that I’d never really have any trouble with that one. He just gets on with it.

You know what he wants to be? An engineer. And not just any engineer. One who works in robotics.

I know.

From where this maths brain emerged in a genetic sea of linguists, I will never know. I ponder that almost daily but especially around exam times when he’s of infinite more help to his sister with her Maths revision than I could ever hope to be.

Speaking of his sister. You never got to meet her but she’s a good ’un too. Solid with a dose of feisty served up as a tasty side. Did you send her as pay back for the hell I put you through as a teenager and young adult? That’s ok if you did. I can take it. There’s little Flynn too but their stories are for another week.

This week is all about Ben. I feel like I can tick off one of the unwritten parenting responsibilities that come with raising a child.

I got him through school. Unscathed. But of course, I didn’t get him through school, did I? He got himself there. Because as parents we don’t do it for them, do we?

We’re facilitators in the early stages of this game they call life.

Mind you, some days this facilitation business gives me the shits. I won’t lie. Washing, cooking, grocery shopping, remembering to buy spare printer ink … it’s necessary but so bloody mundane.

I’m lucky though. Ben will often be up and organised and out the door just as I’m getting out of bed. He’ll walk down the road to his part-time pizza shop job and even walk home on the odd night we’ve swapped a Saturday night on the couch with a bottle of red for many more reds with friends.

 

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