Hey Mum

'Hey Mum when’s dinner ready?’

‘I’m not mumbling, you’re not listening!’

‘Andrew hit me first!’

‘I’m going to Londis, do you want a Twirl?’

‘Bye Mum- love you!’

 

‘Sorry I haven’t talked in a while, I’ve just been busy with work and everything. How’s things at home?’

 

This is for my Mum-

Married young,

then I came along,

born blue and frail

no voice to sing along.

Pierre Robin Syndrome

that’s what I had,

my mum broke down first

then went my Dad.

 

But after the tears,

you both took control,

put aside your fears

and dug out your hole.

Research on my issues,

endless amounts of tissues,

apnoea blanket beeping

at 3am in my room creeping.

 

 

Just wanted to let you know,

I’m grateful.

For all the books you read on

what was wrong with me,

and for all the books you read

while I sat upon your knee.

 

Fast forward now I’m 8,

Fights with Andrew every day,

while Hannah watches from the side

cos we don’t let her play.

Now you’re lecturing me,

‘You always wind him up’

I whine that I don’t,

Andrew yells ‘Shut up!’

Give it a few hours and

we’re playing cricket out back

knocking balls over Tony’s fence,

self-control’s what we lacked.

 

Then we’d eat dinner back inside

and I remember you’d divide

our dessert evenly,

no arguing who got more,

no was it him or was it me?

 

I hated cauliflower,

Andrew didn’t want his peppers cooked,

Hannah hated everything

But all the pettiness you overlooked

 

Then as the day ends,

we hug dad in the front door,

you let us stay up to see him,

now I think I should’ve

hugged you more…

 

8 years later

I’m sixteen- distant

Our conversations short:

‘How was school?’

‘Good’

Then my room becomes a fort,

Close my door,

lock you out,

where I wait until

you shout.

 

‘Whose turn is it to walk the dogs?’

              

               ‘Why hasn’t the dishwasher been emptied!’

 

‘Throw your washing on the landing!’

                                                       

   ‘Strip your bed, please!’

‘

 

I didn’t think to ask about your day.

I guess that’s how it is

 

This is for my Mum-

who when I left the door,

she said I’m not done,

and went and fostered more.

 

Plastic toys and baby puke,

are what I have to juke

if I want a cup of tea,

while little boys as

volatile as nukes,

zip around my knees.

 

I’m not gonna lie

when I’m home

I can feel alienated.

Unis got me used to

being independent,

so when I’m back home

I feel like a kid again.

 

But you’re happy,

I can see it when the kids

give you pictures,

sing you songs

and smile at you.

 

Kids may lie with their words,

but their emotions are true,

I think that’s why you love them.

 

 

 

 

Hey Mum.

I don’t remember how old I was,

maybe like eight or nine?

I’m not sure.

But I heard Dad on the phone,

he talked for a while

and then he left.

He was watching Chelsea before this,

late night Champions League,

he never left during games.

Even then I knew something was wrong.

 

Dad had told me a few weeks before

that Grandad wasn’t feeling well,

he told me outside school one time.

I didn’t really think about it until then.

 

I couldn’t sleep,

I needed to know what was going on,

so I crept out of my bed.

Then it hit when I looked at you from the stairs.

You were curled up crying.

I walked downstairs and you sobbed,

‘Go to bed’

I walked up and asked,

‘Is Grandad dead?’

 

We didn’t talk for an hour,

we just cried,

held each other,

until we were too

tired to cry anymore.

 

But this is the bit I remember the best.

 

When the tears stopped,

we both realised the TV was on,

the news I think.

And we just watched it together.

 

We talked about the news,

we talked about Grandad,

we remembered him together.

You made me feel comfortable.

Then you told me to be strong

and we’ll talk about it more tomorrow.

 

I even slept, I felt peaceful somehow.

 

I hope you don’t feel sad reading that,

it is your birthday!

 

But it’s why you’re a good mum.

It’s why kids in care and broken homes,

go from smacking their heads on walls

to giggling in your lap or admitting

that they’re scared.

 

Because you let them open up,

through laughter or tears.

They give you their trust

and tell you their fears.

 

 

Happy Birthday Mum- I love you.