Ed­i­tor’s let­ter:

Australian Women’s Weekly NZ - - CONTENTS - Michele Craw­shaw, ED­I­TOR mcraw­shaw@bauer­me­dia.co.nz

from the desk of Michele Craw­shaw

My youngest son, Gabriel, turned seven while we were putting to­gether this month’s is­sue. So I was al­ready feel­ing a lit­tle emo­tional as I sat down to read the let­ters three well-known Kiwi mums had writ­ten to their chil­dren for a spe­cial Mother’s Day cel­e­bra­tion in the mag­a­zine.

We had asked them to write to their chil­dren as a trib­ute, and to talk about all they’d learned and loved about moth­er­hood.

I wasn’t pre­pared for how I’d feel while read­ing them. Maybe it was my youngest turn­ing seven – and the feel­ing he’s grow­ing up way too quickly for my lik­ing – or maybe it was the sim­ple hon­esty and heart­felt words that got to me.

They’re beau­ti­ful, poignant let­ters about what it means to be mum to Max (TV3 en­ter­tain­ment pre­sen­ter and The Aus­tralian Women’s Weekly colum­nist Kate Rodger’s four-year-old son), Mil­lie and Reuben (doc­tor and for­mer TV pre­sen­ter Hinemoa El­der’s chil­dren) and “Boot” (the nick­name for ra­dio host Noelle McCarthy’s soon-tobe-born first baby).

They im­me­di­ately made me want to write my own let­ter to my two boys, Harry (11) and Gabriel. So much has hap­pened over these past few crazy years that I’m sure it’s easy to for­get the small mo­ments, the funny lit­tle say­ings, the ob­ses­sions that last a few days or weeks be­fore they’re on to some­thing new, the dif­fer­ent ways they have of mak­ing your heart soar, and break.

The main thing

I’d tell them is that hap­pi­ness, com­pas­sion and self-be­lief are my wishes for them, and that those four words, “I love you Mama”, are the best thing

I will ever hear in my life. And that some­times, mo­ments af­ter they ut­ter them and their backs are turned, they bring me to tears…

I’d also tell them I am grate­ful. Not every day of course – when silly putty is left on the floor and leaves an orange stain that no amount of scrub­bing and scrap­ing will ever re­move, or green felt-pen scrib­ble sud­denly ap­pears on the back of my beloved vel­vet chair… I don’t feel so grate­ful then, and in­stead threaten to send them off to live with their grand­par­ents. Though I sus­pect my mum would be happy if I fol­lowed through on that threat one day.

Maybe I should have asked her to write a let­ter for Mother’s Day, but I’m fairly cer­tain I know what she would say: “Fol­low your dreams, play more Scrab­ble, find the joy in gar­den­ing, al­ways drink great wine, trea­sure your girl­friends, throw a py­jama party for your 70th birth­day, travel more, and laugh.” Good ad­vice Mum.

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