Saffina's rant: Something I said?

When I was a young mum (with even younger children), I had dreams of spending lots of quality time with my offspring. I was going to be a ‘hip and happening’ mum and my kids were going to be so proud of me.

I decided then that when I was 50, I would regard it as the new 40 and start wearing jeans, polka dot blouses with little pussy bows and kitten heels. I was going to look like a ‘yummy mummy’ and everyone would notice! I was going to bin my BHS pinny and Superdrug hair-net and become a new me. My greying locks would be dyed a fashionable brunette and the ‘just dragged from a bush’ look replaced with a stylish but cute shiny bouncy bob. My children’s friends would mistake me for an older sister and I would relish the part!

My children and I would ‘hang out’ regularly. My daughter and I would spend quality time together and bake and garden and shop to our hearts’ content (until such time she found herself a husband). My son and I would go scouring flea markets for antiques and long lost Lowry paintings (until such time he found himself a wife). We would all watch countless re-runs of Columbo together and just be happy being happy.

Sadly, years later, neither of my offspring has shown the slightest inclination in finding a life partner which means that I won’t be attending any weddings any time soon. This is highly disappointing as being an avid fan of Strictly Come Dancing, I have secretly been learning some of the dances featured, in the hope of performing them at my children’s weddings as the ‘show stopper’. Alas it seems all my efforts are destined to be wasted (unless of-course the Children’s Network organises a talent contest for ex children and chooses me as one of the finer star acts!

In case you are in the least bit interested, the dances include the ‘Cha Cha Cha’, ‘Salsa’ and ‘Gangnam Style’ (well, it certainly didn’t do Ed Balls any harm)!

Maybe it was something I said (perish the thought), but both my children locked themselves in their respective rooms at the age of 14 and didn’t emerge till aged 18! They made the odd appearance when food was on offer. This lead to me cooking six meals a day just to prise them out of their dens. The ruse worked, but the constant cooking had a detrimental effect on my wooden spoon stirring arm!  

The children then both left home aged 18 to go on a mission to ‘find themselves’ (also known as a gap year). They both made the right sobbing noises at leaving and even hugged me goodbye, but I now know it was all an act and that they should have got an Oscar for their performance!

I don’t know if their plan to ‘find themselves’ worked, but years later, I am still trying to find them!

I now believe the gap year thing was just an excuse to get away in a respectably believable fashion. They clearly just wanted to get as far away as possible (New Zealand and China) from their apparently ‘interfering’ mother. It’s funny how we all interpret words; I would call it ‘doting’.

Having returned from the gap year, they both jumped straight into the chance to immediately leave home again – university! This presented another timely opportunity to get away from ‘The Mother’ for several years. I had friends’ whose children left for university at the same time. They would tell me how their children would call them every week saying they missed them, their home cooking and home. My friends would then go and visit their children weekly taking with them laundry baskets full of food, clothing and fresh bedding and would be welcomed with open arms. They felt needed!

When I however, offered to go up and see my kids, they had very believable reasons as to why I shouldn’t. These ranged from ‘busy cramming this weekend. You want me to pass don’t you Mum?’, ‘meeting the Lecturer’, ‘going for a run to clear my head in preparation for the exams’ (for six hours)?, ‘helping out in an old people’s home this weekend’, ‘volunteering to clear away autumn leaves from the rail track so that the aforementioned old folk don’t slip! Old folk? Walking on a rail track?!

Anyway. It didn’t matter. I knew university students got lots of holidays and looked forward to them coming home soon with much excitement and anticipation. I’d cook all their favourite dishes (not realising they had never liked my cooking and preferred Pot Noodles), and tidied their rooms and put up ‘Welcome Home’ banners. Sadly, they couldn’t make it home for various reasons.

My daughter rang in a panic saying she couldn’t come home as needed to look for her draft dissertation. It was almost complete and she had mislaid it! If she didn’t find it, she would fail the entire course, never get a job, never get a husband, never get a house and never have kids! My son said he was snowed in and the roads were jammed. I believed him until I realised it was August! Never mind I thought. There’s still the Christmas holidays.

I bought an extra-large turkey to make it up to them for having missed out on the summer family gathering. It was all stuffed and ready with all the trimmings. Then the phone rang. My son - “really sorry mum. Was just going to leave and discovered the bathroom floor is flooded; can’t make it home as need to be here because the caretaker is away. Sorry again mum. Save a bit of turkey for me”. What? Save it for next Christmas!

My darling little girl would be home right? She wouldn’t find a leak in the bathroom surely? ”Hey mum. Can’t wait to come home and see you. Really miss you”. Aaaahh. And then, “But you remember my friend Rhonda? Her parents are divorcing. They just rang her today. She’s in bits. I can’t leave her like that mum. Hope you understand. I really wish I was there with you”.

It wasn’t only the turkey that got stuffed that year!

The kids did finally return home (yay), but then left again! After university, my son decided to get a ‘pad’ of his own to taste ‘independence’ and my daughter did the same (but abroad). My son was, until a few weeks ago, still in his bachelor pad, but then left to also go abroad to start a dream job (in the same place where his sister is).

So, now I have become in the words of the old Gilbert O’Sullivan song ‘Alone again. Naturally’. All my many plans involving my kids have come to a sudden halt, to the point where I worry that I will have to put myself in an old people’s home! I am feeling the effects of ‘Empty Nest Syndrome’ and don’t know what to do with myself (other than write silly blogs like this one)!

In-spite of all the above however, all is not lost. I still watch Columbo (alone), bake cakes (alone), garden (alone), shop to my heart’s content (alone) and scour antiques markets (alone).

However, every cloud has a silver lining. Now, even if my kids don’t to come to me, I go to see them abroad (unannounced)! As they say, you can run, but you can’t hide (from your mother)! It’s payback time!

So, I guess the moral of this ‘story’ is for us to cherish the time we have with our children and young people while they are still young as they grow up too soon; Slipping this into my work, I would suggest that a good way to do this is to attend our RCYPN meetings and spread the word about all the wonderful work our members do involving children and young people!”.

London Borough of RedbridgeNHS Redbridge Clinical Commissioing GroupCity of LondonLondon CouncilsMayor of LondonSkills Funding Agency  Big Lottery