Never too old to be your mom

And, just like that, I find myself in Cape Town... It’s four weeks since I flew to South Africa in a blind panic because my mother and sister had Covid and, being double vaccinated, I figured I could help.

Meanwhile, my son was also sick with Covid two provinces away and my world felt like it was crumbling.

On the day I travelled, my boy’s upcoming landmark birthday seemed like a distant daydream.

But here we are four weeks later: everyone is fine again, the travel ban is lifted, and like a miracle I’m in the right place to celebrate my firstborn’s 30th birthday, with him. Thirty though? Did I give birth age six?

I used to tell him when he moved out I was going to come around to drink his booze then refill the bottles with water, to not replace loo rolls, to switch every light on, to leave my clothes in a trail from the lounge to the bedroom, to “borrow” the batteries from the TV remote...

When he first left home, I took a pair of my socks to his new place and quietly stuffed them down the back of the couch.

“Payback!” I sniggered when he phoned, confused. “Consider yourself lucky that they’re clean.”

However, I’m finding misbehaving harder than you’d think.

I’m with him at his apartment overlooking the Atlantic. There are freshly-laundered towels, flowers, a heater should I get cold, a bag of Chuckles for midnight snacking, and my manchild is smiling down at me from behind his beard – all 30 amazing years of him. He has a salary, a fiancée, a life all his own; he feeds himself, pays his own bills and sails his own metaphorical ship, with that blue, blue horizon beyond.

“I want you to relax while you’re here, mum,” he says.

“Right, sure, what can I do?” I say.

“Relax!”

“Can I hang the washing out?” “No, it’s fine.”

“Okay, I’ll do it later when it’s warmer.”

“I’ll do it, Jen, just relax.” “Should I open the windows to get rid of the condensation?”

“Mo-om, we have a dehumdifier. It’s more humid outside than it is in here.”

“Careful of drinking your coffee over your computer, son...” “MOM! Relax!”

I can relax now, right? But it’s hard to change the habit of 30 years.