To quote my 82-year-old no-nonsense-ex-farmer Dad, my mother "was a bloody genius".
Today, Mum was definitely with me in spirit.
The man of this house, who grew up in a Greek-Orthodox, Easter-Bunny-free family still has NO CONCEPT of how, where or when the seasonal rabbit should work his magic. For the last week, chocolate eggs have been coming out of the woodwork (and sock drawers) in this house, and the girleen is still expecting the Easter Bunny to visit tonight.
HOW MUCH cheap chocolate can a family possibly eat?
How about we use it as entertainment...? Today we melted down a goodly portion of the stash and the girl made her own new Easter eggs.
(Special thanks to Auntie Wilma for the chocolate molds).Yes, the kitchen was splattered with chocolate and the finished eggs are somewhat rustic, but the activity filled in the best part of the day with lots of finger-licking fun. It's the sort of messy, creative stuff my Mum was happy to see us engaging in, and indeed encouraged to keep us occupied and out of her hair. She was a busy mother of eight and, as my Dad points out, she was a bit canny.
I thought of Mum again today, when I asked the wee girl if she thought she was old and responsible enough to learn how to iron her clothes.....
We turned an overflowing ironing basket into a mother-daughter bonding session. There was gentle instruction, lots of supervision and excessive encouragement.....and the girl ironed her clothes.
This is unabashed plagiarism. My mother taught us all how to iron our clothes this way when we started school, and from then on our clothes were put away un-ironed.
I don't think I'll ever top my mother's
Melted Record Peanut Dish brilliance, though.... it's legendary.
One day, when I was about my girl's age, my mother suggested I make a peanut bowl as a xmas gift for family friends. She'd seen a new idea somewhere and thought we should try it out. She gave me a record - a single - and told me that I could soften it in the oven. We had a lovely afternoon, melting and shaping the record into a bowl with fluted sides, and then letting it cool.
As I was painting the new peanut dish gold, my then-16-year-old sister came into the room and saw what I was working on. She read the label on the record and hit the roof.
SATISFACTION by The Rolling Stones.
My mother was of a different generation. She didn't understand rock 'n roll ....and she
never did like that record.
Mum then told my sister to leave me
(the poor child) alone.
How was I supposed to know that it was a special record...?
Bloody genius.
(Mind you, that record would have been worth keeping....)
In pale imitation, I give my girl freedom to decorate posh almond cupcakes with blue icing and marshmallows, and encourage her to make presents for her friend's birthdays.
(I just love that machine-closed stuffing hole. My girl is all about getting the job done FAST...).
I know that this isn't the end of my mother's genius. If anyone can pick up the torch and run with it, it'll be my girl.
Tomorrow, as I hold my Mum's frail hands and wonder what has meaning to her, I'll be holding tight to this thought.
