Mother’s Day celebrity special:

Some of our favourite famous faces put pen to paper in tribute to their beloved mothers.

Dear Mum... Lessons in strength, understanding and laughter

As I write this, you’re probably in the family room back in Gisborne, whipping a weighted hula hoop around your waist while watching a recording of EastEnders. For 30 minutes, you don’t stop. The washing is already done, the garden is tended to, Dad’s breakfast and lunch are made, and a coffee date with an old friend is scheduled in before the grandkids arrive after school. At 74, you don’t – and won’t – stop. You’re strong, formidable and amazing. You’re an inspiration and I adore you.

I was your baby, the last of four aged five and under. I don’t know how you did it. Cooking, cleaning, driving, paying, counselling, supporting, coaching … on repeat every day. You never stopped. But you never complained because, in your words, being a mum was your everything.

And I want to thank you for being my mum. For 44 years, you’ve had my back, listened when I needed to talk and made me laugh when I was down. You’ve taught me right from wrong and that “if you haven’t got anything nice to say, say nothing”. You’ve championed and supported me. You’ve never stopped. God forbid anyone tries to say anything negative about your family. You’re so fiercely loyal and protective.

I still remember how, in my dancing days as a kid, you’d stay up until the wee hours of the morning, propped up in bed, hand-sewing hundreds of sequins onto hats and costumes. It was a laborious task, but you did it again and again. Never stopping, never complaining. And I loved you for it.

I’m still so grateful for when you dropped everything and jumped on the next available flight to Auckland after my first major surgery for endometriosis. I thought I had it under control, but you knew better. And for several days, you slept on my couch, looking after me, making endless cups of teas, until I recovered. That love was unconditional and savoured.

One of my favourite memories is the girls-only cruise we took to celebrate my 40th and your 70th.

It was a rare week of just the two of us – no men, no other siblings or kids. We shopped, gossiped, laughed, explored and dined out until our hearts were content. And yes, you did stay out longer than me at night, despite being 30 years older. You didn’t stop. You know how to live life.

Betty Boo, Mama Bear, Nanny Betty – you’re the best mum a girl could ask for. You’re my confidante, my friend and my biggest supporter. Don’t ever stop. I love you. Love Amanda

Journalist Amanda Gillies is a presenter on Three’s The AM Show.

“I thought I had it under control, but you knew better. And for several days, you slept on my couch, looking after me.”

It would be difficult to put into one letter how grateful I am for being lucky enough to have you as my mother. You taught me to always see the best in people and in every situation – to always have my cup full and look on the bright side. You’re an eternal optimist and even though you’ve been dealt some tough cards in life, you view the world as a wonderful place to learn, laugh and love.

You provided us with camping, tramping and travel adventures from a young age, and continued to do so on your own when Dad passed away – always wanting us to have the best opportunities to see the sights that you’d shared before you had us. You worked hard to provide and maintain a calm home life for us. You ate dinner at the table with us every night, and played taxi to ferry us to ballet lessons, piano, swimming, jazz, clarinet, tap, art class and anything else we wanted to try after school and in the weekends. You helped me financially in my first years at university, telling me to study something I was passionate about, to think big, study overseas and make lifelong contacts all over the world. I will always be grateful for that.

You encouraged me to choose a job I love because it would mean I’d never have to work a day in my life. This advice has been fundamental in my career choice and general happiness, as I truly do love coming to work every day and encouraging those around me to do what makes them happy.

You told me to wait for the right life partner to settle down with, one who would teach our children the names of the birds and trees, then welcomed Liam into our family as if he was your own son. For this, I truly admire you. You supported me with calm advice and plenty of cuddles when I became a mother, and you’re the most fun, happy, warm, patient and kind nana to our daughters Lola and Stella.

My friends marvel at how you end every sentence with laughter – a trait I’ve proudly inherited! I love that I look like you, talk like you and laugh like you, too. I can only hope I grow up to be just like you and share your joie de vivre. Happy Mother’s Day.

“I love that I look like you, talk like you and laugh like you. I can only hope I grow up to be just like you.”

Love Kathryn

Shoe designer Kathryn Wilson is CEO of her eponymous footwear label.

You, me, we… June babies, Gemini twins, fire dragons! What a wonderfully wild ride motherhood is.

You’ve handed me the baton and I’m running with it – thanks, coach.

You’re always with me. It may not feel like it now that our roles have shifted and we live under different roofs, but we’re cut from the same cloth and the texture is undeniable. I look down my short body, past my long “legs elevens” now covered with freckles and scars, and I see your legs leaping around that netball court in Porirua and jump with you.

When I’m mending a rip in your grandson’s shorts, I smile and think about every tiny sequin you sewed onto my dance costumes over the years, and I sashay across the floor with you. As I answer the phone or read today’s to-do list aloud in a Scottish accent, it’s your voice that reverberates off the walls, sending tingles down my spine, and I harmonise with you.

I can open cupboards that most people would say are bare and through your eyes see opportunity. I hunt, gather and provide a feast for my family with you. And when I crave ginger crunch – extra gingery, of course – I know you’ve hijacked my taste buds yet again and the nostalgic high is better than any sugar rush. I yearn with you.

I yearn for all the things you sacrificed and the dreams that weren’t fulfilled, but I know now why you chose that and I know that I will too. Because motherhood is a gift of unconditional love, best given and received. Thank you for your divine guidance and positive energy. Tonight when I sing your mokopuna to sleep, we’ll be channelling you, wrapped in the knowledge that we’re held, nurtured and loved. E te whaea, anei he mihi mahana,

he mihi aroha ki ā koe.

Miriama

Actress Miriama Smith stars in the new local drama Vegas, screening Mondays on TVNZ 2.

“When I crave ginger crunch – extra gingery, of course – I know you’ve hijacked my taste buds.”

You know writing a letter to you isn’t a typical Gina thing to do, let alone having it appear on the pages of a magazine! But I thought it would be something you’d appreciate and a good way to show my love for you on Mother’s Day.

We’ve had almost 30 years together on this earth and we’ve been through a lot – the ups and the downs, and everything in between. I guess the main thing I want to say to you is thank you. Thanks for giving me a bloody great life! Thanks for instilling in your two children the values you and Dad hold dear: generosity, love, fun, family and friends, and the importance of just being a good person.

You have a huge group of friends, and that’s such a positive reflection on your ability to connect with people and become close to them. I have such fond childhood memories of our Friday nights, when we’d have people round for cards, wine and a delicious meal. I guess this is one of the things I’ve taken from you into my own life – the joy of entertaining and being around the people you love. In the end, that’s the most important thing, right?

In high school and right through those uni years, our place would be one of the spots to hang out at on a Friday or Saturday night. All the girls always wanted to come to see Ngaire! And, my gosh, are you an entertainer?! Always putting on a beyond-fantastic spread (you came up with baked feta before it went viral on the internet), using 50-plus candles on the table so the look was just right and, of course, trying to force your rock music onto us. They were such fun times we had together, and I’m so glad my family and friends were able to blend so easily.

Thank you for your continued love and support, no matter the circumstances. I relied heavily on you and Dad, not only in the early years, but through my young adulthood as well. And let’s be honest, I’ll continue to do so forever – lucky you!

Thank you for being so supportive throughout my netball career, too. It was the best thing ever having you and Dad in Liverpool when we won the Netball World Cup, not to mention all the other tours, tournaments and games along the way. Whoever thought you’d get so into sport, hey? You’re always the first person to text me after a game as well, no matter if it was a win or a loss.

It will always be difficult to thank you enough for what you’ve done for me and what I’m sure you’ll continue to do for our family. I hope you know how much we all appreciate everything you do, even though we may not say it all the time. Happy Mother’s Day, Mum! Lots of love always, Gina

Netballer Gina Crampton is the vice-captain of the Silver Ferns.

“All the girls always wanted to come to see Ngaire! And, my gosh, are you an entertainer?!”

I remember my high school days when my hair was “too long” by my school’s standards. It sat a little above my collar, but my school didn’t allow for hair below the collar if you were a boy. I’d attempted to bleach it blond with some leftover supermarket dye I found at home, but, alas, it went orange. So there I was, looking fancy with my medium-length, shaggy orange hair, and my school dean did not like it one bit. We drew swords and she won – the school ordered me to cut my hair ASAP “or else”.

I told you about the debacle and you looked at my hair, shook your head, told me not to worry about it and assured me you’d sort it. The next morning, I woke up and did my usual routine, only I noticed you were frizzing your hair up wildly, shaking it to add volume, spraying in a little extra hairspray. With a smile, you told me you were going to drop me at school and after you did, you parked the car and marched inside. A little while later, I was summoned to the dean’s office. “You can keep your hair,” said the dean. “Just don’t let it get much longer.” The battle was won. Thanks, Mum.

To this day, I don’t know what you said in that office – all I know is that’s the kind of mum I’ve got. The kind of lady who doesn’t back down in a confrontation, and can be fiery and fierce, but is equally loving and kind.

For the first nine years of my life, you had to be a mum and a dad, a hustler and a homebody, hard-working and nourishing at home. You studied fashion design (and made the suit I wore on my wedding day!) and worked at the local surf and skate shop, all while raising me and my sister. If we were sick, you’d bring us to the polytechnic (that’s where I learned what fashion was) or to the skate shop, or you’d set me up with an afternoon on the couch watching skate and surf videos – that’s how I learned what cool was.

Cool was people taking risks in life on the off-chance it all worked out and when it did work out, all the risks that came beforehand were worth it. That lesson stuck with me and it’s how I live much of my life, with the belief that great risk equals great reward. It’s where I get my tenacity from in order to pursue this career in acting – from you, Mum. When times are tough, I remind myself they’re never as tough as what you had to go through and it helps me through the difficult seasons.

This letter is a teeny-tiny glimpse into the monumental efforts you had to make in order to be the great mum you are. I don’t have enough words to express the gratitude I have for you, you truly are the best. A simple thank you does not suffice, but for what it’s worth, thank you and God bless you from the bottom of my heart. Your son, Jay

Actor Jay Kiriona plays nurse Prince Kimiora on TVNZ 2 drama Shortland Street.

“When times are tough, I remind myself they’re never as tough as what you had to go through.”