Yes, hello hello little mice.

As routine as disappointment, but hopefully less disappointing, it’s time for another round of Motherisms! Wahey!

Mum has just picked me up from the station, we are in the car. (FYI – neither of us would be considered as religious) …

Mum: I’m starting to get very angry with Richard Dawkins.

Me: I got angry with him years ago. It’s this arrogance he has I don’t like.

Mum: Me too, all atheists have it. How does he know, think you’re so smart Dawkins then how come the more physicists learn the less they understand fractals?

Me: Er .. yeah.

We are going past houses that that have been engulfed by luminous inflatable “santas” and epilepsy-inducing fairy lights, mum looks at them and says …

“Smells, bells and all in Latin. That’s what Christmas should be.”

My friend Jack, mum and I are now talking about the Frozen Planet polar bear debacle …

Me: I can sort of see why they’re a bit miffed, but I don’t understand how they can value it as something worth spending time complaining about.

Mum: Exactly. And more to the point, if a parent polar bear sees a predator they eat their babies.

Me: Polar bears eat their babies so the predators can’t?

Jack: Yeah.

Mum: Yeah.

Me: How does that make sense?

Mum: It just does.

We’re watching the choir sing carols at King’s College on television  …

Mum: Look at that stained glass, it’s to die for.

Me: Mmm …

Mum: We used to go tripping in there, great place to go tripping.

I force mum to go to Midnight mass with me as I feel I should have experienced it once in my life. There is a moment where everyone is told to turn around, shake hands and say “pleased to meet you” to each-other. Having completed this ritual with a few parishioners I turn to mum as people are starting to hug each other. I am verging on a freak-out …

Me: Well, can I say “pleased to meet you.”

Mum: It’s “peace be with you” darling. And no, this is all alarmingly tactile and Christian, I’m not used to it.

Later in Midnight Mass I have confused what I am supposed to be doing – asking for a blessing not taking holy communion. I realise this after I’ve drunk the wine. I run back to our pew, damned for sure.

Me: I drank the wine! You didn’t tell me I wasn’t supposed to drink the wine! Oh God.

Mum: I’m sure he’ll forgive you. Jesus was pretty big on forgiveness.

Completely out of the blue ..

Mum: I’m ashamed to admit it but I just love Happy Feet. If I ever go ga-ga and put in a home, will you make sure that’s on a loop?

Me: Yes mum.

We’re in the car, obviously not the most flattering lighting for me …

Mum: You’re very pale and spotty.

Me: Thanks, mum.

Mum: Well darling all London girls are.

Me: No they’re not.

Mum: Let’s not focus on that.

We’re peeling vegetables for Christmas lunch.  Dancing In The Street is on the cd player.

Mum: Now this is a good funeral song.

Me: Oh God! I thought I might at least escape your death on Jesus’ birth.

Mum: Nope. Sorry. No one’s stopping this party.

I am in charge of stuffing …

Mum: The stuffing’s awfully presented.

Me: It’s artisan stuffing.

Mum: Fuck off.

Christmas lunch is finally cooking, it’s time to take mums friends dogs for a walk …

Mum: Right! Let’s go dogging!

I look at mum in amused horror. She’s already turned to talk to the cat, in a baby voice …

Mum: That’s right Bob, we’re off dogging!

I am now in hysterics.

Mum: What?

Me: You know dogging has two meanings …

Mum: Oh yes. No, I do. Dogging’s quite big in Devon, people leave their boots on trees. Paul told me.

I am tidying up …

Mum: Did you hear they’d changed the voice-over woman on Master Chef who sounded like she was having sex with vegetables.

Me: No.

Mum: Now they’ve got a man who sounds like he’s having sex with vegetables. I blame Nigella.

We are watching a Christmas University Challenge ..

Jeremy Paxman: What quotes itself as being “gossip, fashion, and sex for the contemporary woman.”

Mum: A Kardashian.

Another University Challenge …

Jeremy Paxman: Name the city highlighted in red …

Me: Lincoln!

Jeremy Paxman: Beijing.

Mum: Nearly there darling!

I am trying on an odd cardigan …

Me: I don’t understand why they’ve cut off half of the back of it.

Mum: Who cares, you’ve got a great bum.

Me: Wow. Ok.

Mum: And it’s Nicole Farhi.

I’ve told the maintenance man to turn on the taps so the boiler doesn’t explode, mum doesn’t trust I have or he has, having driven off five minutes ago, she forces us to return ….

Me: I do wish you’d have a bit more faith in people.

Mum: Yes, well it’s never been justified in the past.

I put on Frasier …

Mum: I just love Frasier, if I ever go ga-ga and put in a home, will you make sure this is on a loop?

Me: Yes mum.

 

Mum’s reversed, not entirely concentrating. She accelerates to drive off. There’s a crunch ….

Mum: What’s that noise?

Me: We’re attached to the fence.

I had the most wonderful time mother, I’m sorry we argued on Christmas Day, but I’ve done some research and it turns out everyone did. We’re normal!

 

Well, here we are again. Motherisms on Mothering Sunday I hear you chortle. How apt of you Jade.

It is rather isn’t it.

Today is a day we should all be thinking about our mothers, be they passed or still alive and worrying. It’s also a day we should be thinking about any of our friends or family who have become mothers, you are incredible, I admire you beyond words. But because words make up this page, on this hallowed, hallmark day I have selected a few words from some lexical dons to help me describe mothers ….

Mothers are a testament to men and women, to loving when sanity would have intervened way before. They are stronger than any man I know (except Chuck Norris) and will risk their life to save yours. We are all guilty of neglecting our mothers from time to time, allowing them to support us, when really it should have been the other way around but make sure that you do not do that today. Life is short, this includes your mothers, make sure she knows you’re thinking of her.

So, let’s all pat ourselves on the backs for being good mothers and children, make a cup of tea and snuggle down to read some examples from another lexical don, my mother. Here are two days worth of her quips – which are all, slightly insane  ….

We are in the car, my mum is congratulating me on my writing, I am whinging, she dishes out words of encouragement. ….

Mum: This is how Sylvia Plath started.

Me: Yeah but did she make any money?

Mum: She killed herself.

Part of the fridge falls off …

Mum: Oh great, I’d been waiting for that bit to come of since you broke it at Christmas. When I make some money I’ll buy a new fridge, a new washing machine. In the mean time I rather enjoy living in squalor. Very down with the people, we’re all in it together. Though I don’t really get that feeling ….

Talking about going to Cambridge and watching a film …

Mum: Didn’t we watch that in Cambridge?

Me: Watch what?

Mum: That film about Hugh Hefner?

Me: Um … I don’t think that was me.

Mum: No! No! Sorry, Howard Hughs. Different guy.

Mum is leaning on the windowsill watching cars go over the new bridge ..

Look at all those people zipping backwards and forwards over that thing. Going nowhere.

Mum puts the cheese away without offering me any.

Me: Can I not have some?

Mum: Yes sorry, darling. I’ve been living alone so long I’ve …

Me: Forgotten common courtesies?

Mum: Yeah, pretty much.

Mum does (of course) trump my wisdom tooth story …

I had my wisdom teeth out while Ringo Star’s surgeon did my knees. My face swelled to an enormous size. My vanity took a real blow. And then the Sharon Tate murders happened. I got very depressed.

Mum and I are both holding pens.

You have a pen, I have a pen.

Mum talking about all the Syd Barrett stuff that’s going on at the moment …

I think it’s all very strange, Syd would’ve run a mile. But it’s good. This is how we’ll make our money, out my memories. When I’m dead you can publish all this stuff. People like the past. They know what happens.

My mother talking about various people …

You know, they say the hardest thing to get over’s a good childhood.

Mum shouts from the other room …

Mum: Scientists have genetically modify cows that can produces human breast milk.

Me: Oh my God, that’s not good.

Mum: Very little is.

Mum is reading while half listening to the TV, she mishears  …

TV: The Paralympics next week on Four

Mum: Oh is that that comedy thing? That was quite funny.

I’ve scolded mum for getting worked up about nothing …

Mum: I have impotent rage, but Barnaby tells me it will dissolve into passive cynicism.

Me: Way ahead of you mum.

Mum: That’s a bit worrying.

Mum and I reveling in Ferrero Rocher …

Mum: They’re absolutely disgusting little things, but at least I know what’s in them.

Me: I think they’re wonderful.

Mum: Oh, I love them!

Mum talking about me getting my act together ..

Mum: Yes, but you’re very punctual.

Me: I’m not punctual.

Mum: You’re going to have to be punctual.

Mother giving some delicious advice …

This romantic melancholy is all well and good, but it doesn’t butter the parsnips.

I love you ever so much mum. Enjoy those daffodils while you can – next door will probably want them back ……

 

It’s Christmas, time to hang out with the mother. She’s a smart lady and I don’t think realizes how funny she is. So it’s time take note of all the bizarre and strangely insightful things she says over the festive period, then publish them on my blog, cheers mum xx ….

My first night down there, while watching Northern Exposure …

Mum: Ahhh yes Jewish doctors. Why can’t you find a nice Jewish doctor?

Me: I don’t know mum.

Mum: No … shame. You should.

Me: I’m trying!

I get ready to go out, admittedly looking a little odd , complete with my new tweed grandpa hat ….

Mum: Oh. You look like a latter-day Annie Hall, crossed with Madonna’s ex-husband.

Me: Guy Ritchie?

Mum: Yes him.

Me: Thanks.

Christmas Day, mum looks wistfully out the window at the snow and silent streets ….

Mum: It’s so lovely and quiet out there – there’s a lot to be said for the neutron bomb.

Doing the Observer Boxing Day quiz, trying to find the answers to the questions about songs …

1) Observer Clue: We meet a young lady recovering from an abusive relationship. Confused and lonely, she seeks solace in an all-too-familiar cycle of sexualty and victimhood, inviting back into her life the very man who left her blinded.

Me: That’s …

Mum: That’s life darling.

Answer: Britney Spears ‘Baby One More Time’

2) Observer: This plucky chap was born during a spell of terrible weather and it’s all downhill from there – he’s abused by his bearded toothless mum and nobody cares when he nearly drowns. But, with irrepressible spirit, he can look back at the hard times and laugh.

Mum: Jesus.

Answer: Irrelevant after that clanger.

I ask mum to heat up my coffee, she huffs about it ..

Me: There’s no need to looks so pissed off.

Mum: I don’t look pissed off this is my natural face now.

Mum looks up from making an omelette ….

Mum: I’m an anorcho-syndaclist.

Me: What’s that?

Mum: Look it up.

Me: Why are you talking in a German accent?

Mum’s listening to the radio…

Mum: What’s R Kelly?

Sitting down, watching a wildlife documentary – one humming bird is eating nectar but another larger one turns up, the smaller one must stand his ground. Mum’s words of encouragement to the little hummingbird …

Mum: Go on babe, don’t let him piss on your parade.

Mum buys a copy of Life of Brian from a charity shop, it was £1.99.

“I can’t believe it. £1.99, for such genius!”

In reference to God ..

Yes, well, I haven’t seen much of this heavenly compassion lately mate.

Mum has the camera, I strike a pose ..

Mum: Try not to look so arrogant in photos darling.

Mum talking about someone useless she knows …

Mum: He couldn’t slide shit down a shovel.

Just about to leave the house I am asked out of the blue …

Mum: What country in Europe has the highest crime rate?

Me: I don’t know …

Mum: The Vatican City.

Me: Really? Are you sure?

Mum: Yeup. And the youngest age of consent.

Me: How young?

Mum: 13.

Me: That’s pretty odd.

Mum: It’s very odd.

Mother speaking words of wisdom…

” Loyalty, it’s a great quality – not just in spies.”

And some more…

“If in doubt – call an ambulance.”

In reference to me breaking things …

Mum: Like that bloody computer you had that Jack chose, that was over a grand … Didn’t last three years.

Me: It lasted from before college to my third flat it Brixton.

Mum: You could’ve got a car for that money.

Me: No I couldn’t and that was 7 years, it lasted 7 years.

Mum: Car would have lasted longer.

Me: What car of yours has ever lasted 7 years?

Mum: This one.

Me: No it hasn’t.

Paolo Nutini comes on …

Mum: Oh this is Louis Nutini!

Me: Paolo Nutini?

Mum: Yeah – I thought he was a shrivelled old Jamaican.

Mum admires her fruit bowl…

“The fruit looks good, I hope you noticed I picked lemons and limes, Caravaggio would’ve liked that.”

Mum asking Jesus…

What would Bob Marley do?

Mum get’s her fill of choirs while watching the young boys choir at King’s College …

 “That’s the thing about choirs and tv – the close ups. They sound like angels and you don’t want to see they don’t look like them.”

Later in the day when another beard has been thrust in mums face …

Mum: It’s the time of year for men with beards, every time I look up there’s a man with a beard. I blame Jesus.

Mum’s been out for a walk…

Walking does seem a purposeless activity unless you’ve got a dog.

Mum eating stilton and crackers …

“Oh chutney. Yeah, man.”

A friend has contested that I go to the loo more than is normal. I put this to my mother.

Mum: Well darling, I think it’s the same as with everything, you’ve got to get it while it’s there.

Mum loses the pepper …

Mum: That’s the trouble, you’ve got to know where you’ve put things.

Me furiously tidying, try to force mum to join in …

Mum: Haven’t I told you I’m an anarcho-syndicalist?

Me: I’m an anarcho-syndicalist on facebook now – ner.

Mum: You didn’t even know what an anarcho-syndicalist was!

Me: Doesn’t mean I wasn’t one.

Mum: You’d never stand up in interrogation. Your knowledge of the unions is very dodgy.

Me: So is yours.

Mum: No its not, I used to hoot for the firemen.