MOTHERS’ DAY- PART 1

This time of year, when the catalogues are coming thick and fast in the mailbox, I can’t help thinking about my late mother, aleiha ha shalom. Not that she looked remotely like any of those model mothers in the Myer catalogue, who all must have had children when they were 12 in order to look the way they do with their model children; not even that we made such a big deal of Mothers’ Day when she was alive. (“Oy, such a waste of money, you shouldn’t have done it, such a nice thought, though.”) I just think about my mother, which is what the day is all about, and I reflect on what a rat I was before I became a mother myself. I hope that I made up for it when the time came, I believe I did; but that was after 25 years of her mothering, the last 10 or so of a big-mouth know-it-all. That’s a long time to put up with anything, but mothers don’t have  a lot of choice in the matter. I think that medals are in order, not slippers and hankies, or irons and vacuum cleaners (and what idiot would give his mother an iron or a vacuum cleaner, anyway?)

Well, the more I think about my mother, the more I think about the things she said, most of which I scoffed at at the time, most of which I now perceive as being true. Let me quote you a few examples. She was psychic, for instance:

“One day you’ll have a daughter, and she’ll say/do the same thing to you, then you’ll know what it’s like!” Too true, too true. And I’ve got a few years before  my Luna-Park mouth daughter becomes a mother herself, please G-d (Good grief, I even write the way my mother talked). Wow, what a thought.

She knew about sociology: “Make sure your nails are clean and tidy and your shoes aren’t down-at-heel; it’s the first thing a prospective mother-in-law looks at.” It was, too.

She was an expert on health, despite lack of a diploma. Consider these:

“Don’t go out with wet hair / walk barefoot / go out without a sweater, you’ll  catch a chill!” Boy, did I have heaps of scientific information to refute that old acorn, but it doesn’t stop me from saying it to my own children. It might as well be true.

“Don’t drink iced water when you’re hot, you’ll get a headache.” I do - now.

“Chicken soup is good for you!” How could I ever have doubted? I even give out recipes to my patients.

“Don’t slouch! Stand up straight, you’ll get a curvature of the spine!” Not exactly, but close. Are you listening, kids?

“Fat, shmat, what’s wrong with a little bit of fleish  anyway, not like these skinny rakes you see everywhere, feh!  And such a pretty face, too.” (Actually, my mother never said that, my father did. To both of us. What my mother said was “Don’t eat that, you’ll be sorry!” and “The older you are, the harder it is to lose weight!” She was right there too.)

She knew about baby care, (although I knocked her for a loop with my efforts at population):

“Sleep makes sleep.” This doesn’t seem to make sense at first, like some Zen Buddhist koan, or riddle, but it is absolutely true. I mean, if a baby had a good nap, why would it want to sleep at night? But it does.

“Simple foods are best, too many combinations strain the kishkas.” And I had to buy a book that said the same thing- “Fit for Life”.

So, Mum, you were right all along. Now tell me how I can convince my kids that I know what I’m talking about. Oh for Heaven’s sake, child, stop cracking your knuckles, you’ll get arthritis, G-d forbid! And stand up straight, walk nicely, or you’ll never find a husband! Don’t talk like that to a mother. Are you listening to me? One day you’ll have a daughter...

This was originally published in 1994 in the Australian Jewish News. Since then, my motor mouth daughter/s have had children, so maybe I'll muse on that in my next post. If my mojo has returned. Please G-d.