MOTHER TONGUE...

When my brother and/or I misbehaved when we were kids we certainly did cop a tongue lashing from our mother!  In many instances, Mum’s reprimanding wasn’t the end of it, either.  We weren’t let off the hook so easily because we’d cop another tongue lashing from our Nana, as well, just in case there was something we’d not understood in Mum’s tirade.  Don’t misunderstand me, ninety-nine percent of the time we deserved the tongue lashings, I’m sure.  Lessons had to be learned...lessons needed to be taught, and when we were naughty, as all kids are ...they’re not always perfect little angels...and neither were my brother and me...we were brought back into line.

By the way....we didn’t escape their hot tongues and cold shoulders when we were teenagers and adults, either!

Being blasted from both barrels was an extra bonus to top off the reprimands in case we thought we’d dodged a bullet the first time around. There was no escaping, even if we tried to hide in our tree houses in the hope all would be forgotten and forgiven by the time we climbed back down to the real world. No chance!  The real world, along with life’s harsh lessons – of how we should, and were expected to behave – waited...stern of face.

Both Nana and Mum had loads of patience in the lesson teaching area.  Home schooling isn’t new.  In its many forms, it’s been around since I was a kid.  It’s still viable and valuable these days.

Throughout our lives, from babies to adulthood, Nana was like a mother to my brother and me.  Our father never played a role in our lives – not ever, other than in conception...but two hard-working, good-humoured, strict, but fair women selflessly both played huge roles in our lives.

My brother and I were never spanked, nor were we smacked.  The ominous warnings issued by our mother and grandmother were more than enough to make us toe the invisible, but distinct line. 

The two head ladies, who were in charge of the household, had their ways – a gaze was enough - to make us understand the error of our own ways without either having to resort to a smack, or the rack. 

When Nana “dropped her jaw”...we knew to promptly drop what we were doing...take heed, and behave, post haste.   Pull our heads in we did!

  

A “wait until your mother gets home...” made us hope the wait was long...long enough for all to be forgotten and forgiven.  With our mother working long hours most days of the week a lot of the time Mum arrived home after my brother and I had gone to bed, and were asleep.  If we weren’t asleep, we pretended to be...well, speaking for myself, anyway!

Usually, by the following morning, the fire of ire burning within the fiery red-head...our mother...had died down. 

By morning, the only heat was in the kitchen, emanating from the “Early Kooka” - our upright, four-burner gas stove - as our breakfast was being cooked before we rushed off to school.  On those mornings school was indeed inviting.  Gulping down our breakfast as politely as possible, we couldn’t wait to head off.  Another close call...escape...successfully executed!

Mum and Nana weren't perfect, but they were perfect for my brother and me.  They were our protectors from the harshness and the cruelties of the world.  While simultaneously ensuring our eyes and minds were open to, and aware of the\harshness and cruelties, they also made sure we were aware of the beauty and goodness surrounding us...to never lose sight of both.

Michelangelo reportedly said...probably not on Mother’s Day...but, then again, he could have said it then... “Every block of stone has a statue inside it, and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”  

Mothers are sculptors....

In the mind of some, the belief would be I have no right, or basis upon which to express what I’m about to say because I never had children of my own...I’m not a mother.  However, Michelangelo’s musing, to my mind, is an excellent parental guideline for mothers and fathers...one or the other, or both...to follow.

From the very early stages of childhood the shepherding, nurturing hands of a loving mother help awaken and develop a child’s potential. 

A mother’s love is sometimes patient, and sometimes not...but is always forgiving.

By far, our small family unit of four wasn’t rich in the monetary meaning of the word. However, my brother, Graham and I were rich in that we never went hungry; we had four walls around us; a roof over our heads, clean, ironed clothes on our backs, as well as our Mother’s and Nana’s love.

Happy Mother’s Day...even if some of you can’t be together on Sunday...virtual hugs shall be in abundance, of that I am certain.  The love...pure and real...remains...

Cheese-Ham-Onion Bread Pudding: Heat oven 175C. Oil deep baking dish. In bowl, whisk together 4 eggs, 1-1/2c milk, 1tbs Dijon mustard, 1/8^th tbs nutmeg and ¼ tsp each salt and pepper. Add 375g sourdough bread, cut into 5cm pieces; let sit 5mins, tossing occasionally. Fold in 1 small red onion, cut into 1-1/2cm wedges, 1 cored, thinly sliced apple, 125g ham, torn into 5cm pieces, and 1c grated Cheddar into bread mixture. Transfer mixture to prepared baking dish; bake until set and knife inserted in centre comes out clean (cover with foil if it browns too quickly), 45 -50 mins.

Earl Grey Tea Fruit Bread: Earl Grey Fruit Loaf: Put 175g currants and 175g sultanas in bowl; pour over 300ml hot Earl Grey tea. Stir, cover and leave to soak overnight for the liquid to absorb. Preheat the oven 150C. Grease a 900gloaf tin and line with non-stick baking paper. Add 275g S.R. flour, 225g light muscovado sugar and 1 beaten, large egg to bowl of soaked fruit (if there is a little excess liquid this is fine); mix thoroughly; spoon into prepared tin; level top. Cook 1-3/4hrs, or until cake has risen and just firm to the touch, but check it after 1-1/4hrs to see how it is doing. Leave to cool in tin for about 10mins. Turn out the cake; remove paper. To serve, cut into fairly thick slices, spread with butter.

Oh! Mumma! Blend chilled juice of 3 red grapefruits, chilled juice of 1 orange, 1 knob of peeled fresh ginger and ½ seeded jalapeño until smooth; strain; discard pulp. Fill champagne flutes half way; top with chilled Prosecco; garnish with jalapeño and citrus slices.