Mum's the word

As Mother's Day approaches, Pat reflects on motherhood through the generations.

- PAT MCDERMOTT

"This month I'll celebrate my 47th Mother's Day," I announced over tea and toast at breakfast.

The MOTH (Man of the House), who knows I have a fragile grip on all things mathematical, peered around the corner of his newspaper.

“You can't be that old,” he said. I glared. “Actually, what I meant to say,” he added quickly “was that you look too young to be that old!”

“I'd stop talking if I were you,” I sniffed. “You'll only make things worse!”

The years went by so fast. The house was full of babies and toddlers one minute and teenagers the next. The MOTH sometimes counted them as they thundered down the stairs and out the door to school to make sure they'd all gone. Then, alone in the kitchen at last, we'd sip our tea and "feel the serenity” for a good 10 or 12 minutes before one or the other would fly back in to grab forgotten books, lunch boxes, and money.