Mum does so much good. No contest

KATY HARRINGTON

MY mother is continually, perpetually on the phone. I often hear her from her bedroom after she has slipped off to “put her feet up” under the duvet inhaling through her mouth and uttering understanding “Oh don’t I knows” to whoever is on the other end.

For someone who never cared much for school she is the Encyclopaedia Britannica and dictionary rolled into one (making her a weapon at Scrabble) yet she doesn’t have a clue about tech or what to do with a flat tyre. She is a decent, if distracted, driver but a bad backseat one — exceed 100kph and she will grab the passenger door handle like you are about to go to warp speed on the Ballincollig bypass. My mother is no loner but she does love her “bit of peace and quiet” in the morning. Then it’s time for her beloved walk. (On arrival at any favourite spot, should there be more than two people, she will say “It’s like Patrick street!” within seconds.)

I’m totally fine with the fact that she loves the dog more than me and my siblings tied together. My mum is not my best friend, nor I hers. She has dozens of her own friends, new and lifelong, which is testament to her character. She’s the queen of faffing (it takes her 20 minutes to get her coat on and out the door) and fussing (she asks if I have enough money once a day) but is also super low maintenance — although she “wouldn’t dream of” going out to dinner without “her eyes” on. She makes a very silly face when she dances.

It bugs me that Irish mammies get classified as one homogeneous lump, or as if they are all in competition to be ‘best mum’. I’m not sure if my mum is the ‘best mum’, but I know she does so, so much good.