Mmmmm?

What to buy?

What to cook?

What to eat.?

Necessary food,

A disinterest,

Forcing me to my feet.

 

Yum, yum, yum,

May I have some?

Yorkshires and that meat.

Not for me,

I’m on a diet,

Can’t add that as a treat.

 

I’m not hungry quite as yet.

Well, maybe one wee tater.

Leave the rest upon my plate,

I’ll eat it all up later.

 

I’m vegetarian now.

Well, almost,

Except for spinach, beans and sprouts

And anything that smells like vegetables.

Those are definitely out.

 

Can I leave this?

I feel quite sick.

Don’t force my stomach, please.

Until an hour or two has passed,

Then I’ll have some toast and cheese.

 

Little children eat it up.

Bigger ones a pain.

Suck it up, I often say,

I’m not doing this again.

 

Now, often they will cook their own

And maybe for us all.

I eat the lot, not one complaint.

Just glad it’s not my call.

 

Restaurants are such a joy.

A waiter and a chef.

Relax, read off your choices.

Plates cleared, there’s nothing left.

 

I may just start a café

With menus for a choice.

Opening hours and closing ones.

Meals presented with a large invoice.

Reaching out to Mum

Right. This is just getting ridiculous.

Let me state quite clearly…….. I did not come onto this site to be everyone’s mum.

OK?

Got that?

I am not your mum.

I love you.

I care about you.

I want you to happy.

I want you to be comfortable in your own soul.

I hurt if you hurt.

I feel what you feel.

I want to soothe your ailments.

Does that make me your Mum?

No. It makes me human.

Your mum is already out there..

Maybe she needs you to reach out to her?

I don’t know.

I really, really don’t know.

No kidding.

But.

If your mum, for whatever reason (And it better be a really good reason. Don’t give me any crap about how hard she is on you, or how she makes you do chores. Sob. Sob.), really is not there for you then, OK, I give in.

I don’t seriously need any more children. Really, I don’t. Although a gorgeous little baby would not be unwelcome. (Don’t go there. You’re too old. Stop it. Be a granny. Eventually.)

I hurt.

I mean. I really hurt.

I cannot bear the pain that children experience, without wanting, in some way, to alleviate it.

But. I am not your Mum. She is out there. Somewhere. Probably wondering about you.

Reach out.

Too often the child is forced to be the adult. But, sometimes, it is worth it.

Reach out.

In my belief, it is a rare woman who is not moved by their own child.

I qualify.

It is a rare parent who is not moved by their own child.

I either have been very lucky or very blessed to have the love of a good man. (And I use ‘good’ selectively).

So many hurts. So much suffering.

Seriously, I did not enrol to embrace what I encounter daily.

But.

But.

But.

I will never turn my back on a soul that is suffering.

Please, I beg you, find another way. A better way.

Leave me out of this equation if you can.

But.

But.

But.

If you exhaust all, and I mean all, avenues for comfort and understanding, I will not turn my back on you.

I made  that promise to myself a long time ago.

And it holds good.

Seriously, I did not come here for this.

I do not want this.

I want to explore me. Not you. Not you and your problems.

But, I promise you, if you have exhausted all avenues before you, I will not ignore you.

Please try, on your own terms, first.

Please.

We are all souls looking to be understood.

And everything I said I qualify with the right you have to seek help where you can find it. And the duty I have to provide it where I can.

First, turn to mum.

If that fails, I humbly ask you to accept that I will stand in her stead until she is in a position to hold you and comfort you as all mothers should.x