Birthday girl

It's my mum's birthday today - that's her in the photo, although that was taken a few years back. When I was little she used to tell us kids, when we asked her age, that she was 14. I don't think I started to question that until I was nearly 14 myself, at which point it began to seem improbable. I know how old she is now, of course, but a gentleman never tells such things. And she brought me up to be a gentleman. 

I know not everyone has a mother who, like Mary Poppins, is practically perfect in every way. And I do feel sorry for you, if that's you. I did. She's loved her kids, grandkids, great grandkids and other assorted relatives unstintingly, and sacrificed so much over the years to ensure we had the best possible go of it in life. She's charming and caring and I love her to bits.

I've found, with the passing of the years and the arrival of the next couple of generations, that I've come to appreciate my parents (and step-parents) a great deal more. "Honour your father and mother" says the Ten Commandments, and, honestly, the longer I've done the whole parenting job yourself, the more I've realised how much honour is due. It's no mean great, raising a human. 

So happy birthday, Mum. You're awesome and you always will be.