ON THE OCCASION OF MUM’S 70TH BIRTHDAY

You truly don’t realise how selfish, conceited and essentially sub-human you were as a kid until you have children of your own. (My kids aren't sub human, it's just that I was.)

As your tweens become teens and start behaving, how should I put this, “weird” (yeah, that’ll do just fine) you start to see a vague reflection of the person you once were and are glad you are no longer. I think our standard internal dialogue regarding this observation is “Surely I wasn’t like that, was I?” with the equally standard reply being “Oh yes you were, Bucko!”

I look back in horror at just how selfish I used to be and my myopic view of the world. Mum and Dad would lavish me with things; Billiard tables, guitars, games, food, shelter. You name it, Father Christmas would bring it. Was I thankful? Did my heart brim over with gratitude? No! I reckon I simply felt this was “the way it happened.” As many of us do, I simply viewed my parents as a “conduit for stuff” and not as people who actually needed anything in return.

For some reason, (insert irony here) I no longer see it this way.

I would sometimes argue with Dad about things and think to myself “He’s just ignorant.” I would often take the moral high ground, even "quoting scripture” to back up my arguments and generally thinking I was seated “to the right hand, of the right hand of the Father.” This pharisaical approach gave rise to Dad’s favourite label for me at the time “Holy Joe.” A label my younger sister would use and re-use to great advantage.

What a twerp I was. And I have never seen it so clearly until recent years, as my kids held a mirror up to me labelled “Oh yes you were, Bucko.”

I have already begged my parents for mercy numerous times, so don’t need to purge my soul now.

What I want to do is restate my appreciation for all that they have done throughout my life. Dad and Mum, you are great people and have done a wonderful job parenting, and now grandparenting, the whole Anderson clan.

I take all that you have given us, not as right, but as a privilege.

For all the love, band aids, tuck-ins, later night conversations, roast dinners, lifts to work, monetary contributions, bass guitars, billiard tables, sick buckets, panadol, rooves over our heads, vacations, moving countries, mint jelly, chilli crackers, baby sitting and care above and beyond the call of duty… I thank you. Deeply.


Happy Birthday Mum.

Silent Muse

I am sorry my blog lies quiet. I will make some noise soon.

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