It's been said that you're never too old to not need your mum. I think there is a whole lotta truth in that. This year, Lady B reaches what some may call a "big" birthday. It's semi big. It's of note. Fine. Mostly because it's a nice round number but that's about it, because let's be honest, I own two cats and a dog, have a husband, run a small business, have a mortgage, lease a car, and to Sister Sugared Almond's joy, note down road closures on the family calendar. We have a family calendar. Oh and I have a baby. Pretty sure that makes me "old" or "grown up" or something, "big" birthday or otherwise.
Lady B would like to note here however, that I do NOT feel grown up, I do NOT feel adult, and I do NOT recognise myself as being anything past early twenties. I do NOT dress like someone who is grown up; Lady B wears converse with everything - seriously - EVERYTHING, and I'm pretty certain I own nothing in my wardrobe that resembles super smart and yet I lavishly buy pretty items to wear once and gawke at because I'm too scared to wear them again (wedding dress excluded; I've not worn this again but that's for entirely different reasons and yet definitely my most expensive item of clothing. Ever.) I stuff my wallet with receipts that I will never sort (unless they are Lady B centric), and never open bills or my bank statement because why do I need to, I know what I've spent, why go through that horror again. Lady B has *just* about understood the laws of make up and how to style my brows (just), yet I've never shaved my legs - always wax- because I still can't manage to do that without cutting myself silly.
In fact, the only slightly "grown up" thing within my personality is going to bed early, when I can. I know I'll be tired tomorrow if I watch that episode of The Bridge / Grey's / OISTNB , so I drag my tired arse to bed and give in, in the hope I get at least five hours sleep.
Okay, maybe that's not the only grown up thing I do (see mortgage, baby, business whatnot) but y'know, even though those things now exist, I feel ill equipped to be classed as an adult. Even more so when Mother Mooncake heads off for nearly seven weeks of cruising fun with Father Mooncake, and I gasp in horror at being, well, left. Yes, Lady B went to Uni at 18 in London, yes she lived in London for nearly a decade, and yes she saw her parents maybe once every 6-8 weeks at that time. Yes. You'd be right. But since moving back to the countryside and since, more importantly and crucially, having a baby, the Mother Mooncake has become intrinsic to, well, LIFE.
What I will say next is not a new comment on motherhood, more a simple stating-the-bleedin'-obvious; when you have a baby, you suddenly realise just what a bloody hard job your own mother had and my god she's fucking incredible and aren't you a bitch for never having realised this before to it's full extent. Yep. I could have said that more eloquently but I'm no adult.
If you follow Lady B on Instagram, you'll know Mini B has been through the ringer a bit in March with illness, testing my strength and my powers of Mamahood. That, tied with LIFE and work stuff, and then Mother Mooncake heading off on some adventure, brings you up to date, more or less. When Mother Mooncake left, she sobbed at missing Mini B (maybe me, but definitely more about Mini B). And here, Lady B could wax lyrical about the wonders of her mama, yet I shall not, instead it's simple; you really are never too old to need your mama. She knows, she's the one, she just "gets it" without you having to say a word. Why? Because she carried you for nine months, she knew you before you knew you, what an absolute gift to behold.
So, as we happily welcome April - an entire month without Mother Mooncake around - Lady B readily admits to always needing her mama, always, and yet surprisingly being able to function like, umm, an adult when necessary. Tonight, Lady B is making some BIG life-work decisions whilst I sit on the parental's sofa, drink their wine, eat their food and use their washing machine rather than my own. Okay, I'm no adult. But I can pretend, right?
And this tune; a Mother Mooncake favourite of which she danced around the kitchen with Mini B in her arms the day before she jetted off.
Be good and bake well,