AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’ ON THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET...

My Mother...Elma Flora...at the age of 18 years

My Nana...Ivy Flora...on her wedding day

                                                                         
    

                                               MOTHER’S LOVE                         

                               Mother’s acute enchantment at baby’s first cry

                               Profound contentment as it suckles her breast     

                               The trusting grasp of her hand when laid to rest       

                               Enraptured by smiles, baby’s tentative first step

                               Supreme joy at first words spoken, many tears shed

                              Eager anticipation, excitement of what lies ahead

                              A mother’s love is absolute, unable to be compared

             

                                                                                         Poem by Me

The above blending of two old tunes could be the theme song of my late brother’s and my childhood; some of it, anyway.  It wasn’t all sunshine and roses - or behavin’!  

“Stardust”, “Georgia on My Mind”, “Honeysuckle Rose”, “A Kiss to Build a Dream On”m "Nola", "Jealousy", and a host of others, were also part of our mother’s vast repertoire of melodies.  Mum’s fleet fingers caressing the ivories - sometimes pounding - introduced us to the wondrous classical piano pieces by Mozart, Schumann, Beethoven, Liszt, etc., too.

Music was our mother’s heart and soul. Music played a major role in our lives; a gift, given, and appreciatively received, many times over.

My brother and I were raised by two mothers...our mother and our Nana.  Mum called Nana, “Mumma”.  

At the age of seven years, thereabouts, “Mummy” suddenly sounded babyish to me.  Henceforth, “Mum” found its slot in my expanding vocabulary. 

Around the same time another world-shattering realisation occurred.  I ceased calling my brother Graham, “Gar”.  When I was a wee tot “Graham” was difficult to pronounce, so “Gar” is what he got.

For a few years, as well as her full-time job, our mother took off before the crack of frosty dawns to go bean-picking on farms in the Gympie surrounds. Upon completing that seasonal back-breaking chore Mum returned home to ready herself before heading off to her other job.

Tall, poised, very attractive with radiant auburn hair, our mother was never unemployed. Often she was called upon to grace the catwalks in local fashion parades.

Life at times was tough. Not all was bright and sunny on the sunny side of the street. Dark clouds loomed at times, unwelcome and uninvited, but defeat and surrender were not allowed through the door.  

We were never without food on the table, or in the cupboards; nor were we ever without clean, neat, ironed clothes; or fair discipline - discipline my brother, Graham and I respected.  Nana and Mum shared a wicked sense of humour...and sense of fair play.

Nana worked part-time during school hours. She was there for us in the mornings, and when we arrived home from school - never were we “latch-key” kids.  Both Mum and Nana sewed.  Our Singer treadle sewing machine rarely was idle. Hand-sewing and darning were part of life back then, too.

Do we - when we’re kids, teenagers, and young adults – fully understand what our mothers do for us - sacrifice for us? 

As a whole, when navigating our way, we’re too immature, too inexperienced in the realities of life to know if our mothers are happy...to recognise if they are content – or not. Too often, thoughtlessly, we’re too eager to judge.  We’re selfish.  Without hesitation, we fall into the trap of not showing our love; of not making our mothers aware we care. 

“Thank you” are two words, small in size, but huge in significance.  It’s not weakness to voice the words.

Don’t keep mum. Open up - thank your Mum for being your Mum. 

Be understanding of the fact - like you, and like me...our mothers are human. They had/have to learn as they go – step by often tentative step. Everyone has faults; not one of us is perfect.  I certainly am not. Mistakes are inevitable.  

All the books in the world, written by “experts”, can’t prepare a person for the unexpected; for the harsh realism of life raising a child presents; for complex daily personal experiences; for the actuality of being a teacher, a role model, a guide, disciplinarian - a loving mother to a little being...to a naive child receptive to life lessons. 

“Carpe diem! Seize the day!”   Express three words - words with a world of meaning...”Thank you, Mum”...and/or “Love you, Mum”.  

Happy Mother’s Day to Mums....Sunday, 12^th May.....(Australia and USA).

Best wishes to mothers everywhere...Mum’s Day is every day!

(I've been dropping myriad hints to my two furry rascals, Remy and Shama, that I'd love breakfast in bed on Sunday...breakfast prepared by them...but, I'm not getting my hopes up....) 

Ham Spinach Egg Bakes: Preheat oven, 190C with rack in lowest position. Cut shortcrust pastry into 10cm rounds.  Fit rounds into a lightly greased 12-cup muffin tin; press up and slightly over sides of each cup; chill 10mins. Whisk together 4 large eggs, 3/4c milk and cream combined, 300g spinach, 1/3c finely chopped smoked ham, 2 chopped shallot stalks, 1tbs chopped dill, 2tsp Dijon mustard, salt and pepper. Spoon evenly into crusts; bake 22-25mins. Serve warm.

Banana Pancakes: Blend or process 1-1/4c rolled oats, 1 large ripe banana, 155g thick vanilla yoghurt, 4 eggs, 1tsp vanilla, 1-2tbs maple syrup, 1tsp baking powder, 1/2tsp baking soda, 1/2tsp cinnamon and 1/8tsp salt until smooth and uniform in texture. Brush a non-stick skillet with butter or a bit of oil over med-to-low heat. Add about 1/4c portions of batter at a time for 10cm pancakes. Sprinkle in mini- choc chips. Cook until edges start to harden and batter starts to bubble on top, leaving little craters in the pancakes, about 2-3mins. Flip pancakes; allow them to cook through for another minute or so. Top pancakes with yoghurt, sliced bananas and a drizzle of maple syrup.

Strawberry Muffins: In a small bowl, toss 1/2c finely chopped strawberries with 1tbs flour. Set aside. Cream 1/2c butter and 1/c sugar until fluffy; add 2 large eggs, one at a time; beat until mixed. Whisk together 2-1/2c plain flour, 1tbs baking powder, 1tsp baking soda, 1/2tsp cinnamon and 1/4tsp salt. Add 1/3 of flour mixture to butter mixture, alternating with 1c buttermilk until all has been added. Gently fold in flour-coated strawberries. Transfer batter to greased 12-cup muffin tin. Sprinkle each muffin with Sparkling Sugar, if you desire. Ir gives a nice crunch to the top of the muffins but not necessary for the flavour. Bake at 204C 15-18mins, or until muffins are slightly golden brown and done in the centre.