The Mum Confessional : Part 1

I threw out your pictures made of pasta and glitter because they cluttered up the house.


I was looking for some old photographs last week and noticed, with a slight air of smugness, that my 'keepsake' drawer has all the important family treasures in it; great-grandfather’s bowling balls, grandpa’s darts, nana’s album of First Day Covers, my daughter’s Hickman line, my wedding day garter and some slides and a portable viewer from the early 1970’s – it was then I realised that there was not a painted handprint nor glitter-covered piece of farfalle or penne in sight.  I have not kept a single piece of artwork from my children, nor any of their old school reports (apart from the last two years which have been shoved unceremoniously in the kitchen drawer) and I can't seem to find any of their achievement certificates.  This, to their great relief I suppose, means that I have nothing to publicly embarrass them with if they ever become famous.

Why was I looking through the old photographs?  Well, it’s another period of transition again here at Typecast Towers.  GCSE results are imminent and I think I am more nervous than the recipient (son #1).  I will also be waving off my youngest child (son #2) to high school.  Both children are on the road to even greater independence and whilst we are still parenting them, the goalposts have shifted once again.  One of them has been told that he has to be more responsible for his own actions - simple things like getting up in the morning for a start (yes, the morning... I think he has forgotten about the Time Before Midday) and the other will attend the official ceremony of Being Presented With Your Own Front Door Key.

The whole process is making me feel old even though I know I'm not really old yet (It is 613 days until my 40th birthday).  My grandchildren are old almost enough (not long now) to become excited about randomly sticking the contents of the recycling bin to a piece of scrap paper so maybe I shall keep those pictures instead and pass them off as the original artwork of their mother and their uncles.  It'll be our little secret.

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