The day my sons were born my life changed, for ever. But I suppose all mothers would say that. My twin sons have been the best thing that has happened to me in my whole life.
I have recently been sorting out photos and memorabilia and was pleased to discover that I have kept most of the Mother's Day cards that they have ever given me. There was a time, probably the first 2-3 years of them having flown the nest at 18years of age, when I couldn't have even looked at their baby photos, let alone read Mother's Day cards. I got far too emotional. I didn't understand why at the time and then I saw a television programme on how mothers 'grieve' when their children leave home and saw women standing up in an audience and describing the loss they felt. I thought, "Hey, that's me!" I felt so much better after that and dealt with my 'grief' and moved on.
They are 26 now and living what I can only describe as 'dynamic' lives. They are both professionals and live life to the max, as they say. I adore them.
The photo above is of probably my very first Mother's Day card. He has drawn a huge 'H' for Helen, then has stuck a shell in the middle of it with wide selotape and "I love ym mum" is written very carefully up in the corner. What an absolute treasure. The cards get better and better as the years go by.
And this page (below) inside was entitled, "mum can't find me"...
I took them to the Royal Easter Show one year when we were living in Sydney. We were near the Showbag Hall - one of the most popular places to visit and the huge crowd outside was absolutely heaving. Within seconds I had lost Douglas. I panicked. I told everyone around me that I'd lost my little boy. Someone asked what he looked like. I pointed to Matthew and said, "Exactly like that but he's wearing a blue t-shirt!"
Below we have the card made by the budding engineer (Matthew) who had seen 'pop-up' cards. He worked out how to do it and lo and behold... I get a pop-up card! And I love this bit: "From your best, favourite, darling angel". They both have the most wonderful sense of humour.
This next one is an absolute gem. It is a collage. A lot of time and effort has gone into this and it embarrasses me that anyone should go to so much trouble for me.
There are lots of beautiful words inside... plus this written in a corner:
My boys started making me laugh from a very early age and as the years go by they just get funnier.
Also, on the back of this handicrafted masterpiece we have:
"copywrite
quwality moments....'and when the clouds part...and the birds sing' kind of thing cards inc."
Later on they were both at university. Doug was studying German, amongst other subjects and I receive this:
Inside is the most wonderful poem - six verses long! (in English)
And then...
This is my all time favourite. Apart from German and Psychology, Doug also studied English which, of course, included Shakespeare. He chose this beautiful verse for my Mother's Day card that year:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease both too short a date,
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st.
I feel like the luckiest mother alive.
2 comments:
Ahhhhhhhhh:)
Helen, of course you may use my words, in your caring and to your sons. I have just dipped in here to remind myself of who you are, and have struck right on this beautiful post, which has filled me up with tears. You obviously have a close and loving relationship with your boys which I envy you. I have four, but although I know I have their love, somehow they have not grown up to express themselves in quite this way - partly, perhaps, because we never observed Mother's Day in my family, it was not something that I felt necessary.
When mine flew the nest (gradually, over a period of 10 years, not all at once as yours must have done, it did not feel difficult to let them go. But when my eldest went to live in Sydney 13years ago, ahh, now that was hard indeed. And now I spend more and more time yearning over old photograph albums. I envy you your beautiful collection of Mother's Day cards.
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