Monday, 26 March 2012
When my mother was the same age as I am now, she had five young children. The youngest came in a pack of two, metaphorically joined at the hip and emotionally inseparable were 10 year old twins of opposite sexes, the next, at the middle rung of the sibling ladder was a boy age 12, a smart young man, already a comprehensive thinker. At the next step was another girl, 14 years old and charming with every breath and every enigmatic smile. Just up ahead and convinced she was already an adult in embracing a motherly role, was my mother’s first born, a girl of 17.
A young family, full of possibilities, bouncing towards our futures. Five distinct paths lay on the horizon, one for each child to stumble upon or skip alongside as the peaks and troughs of life meandered and sometimes cascaded towards various junctures, some fascinating, others more haste than speed, many more sooner forgotten than remembered. We frequently crashed like the ebb along our various routes, here and there meeting at a crossroads, some of us sinking just a little, some of us overcoming challenges with bravado and some of us embracing life with a will that might have long since passed if we weren't so keen to remember that yes, it actually existed. We all got to somewhere fabulous at one or several points, and now, the five of us find ourselves as parents, with new paths and new possibilities and young lives all of our own to cherish.
However, at the same age as my mother was as she juggled her five young charges I find myself at a different place than she. My children, a boy and a girl, are now a young man and a young woman, each of them at the threshold of something incredibly beautiful and inspiring. They are both embracing the absolute joy of embarking on their own journey, with their own loves, in their own homes with their own ideas and zest for doing it their way. And whilst my mother dealt with schools and homework and teenage tantrums and hormones I find myself as a grandmother-in-waiting! In six short months my first grandchild will arrive into the world, with much aplomb, to be met with celebratory fanfare. My heart will burst with love and our lives, as grandmother and grandchild, will be new for both of us.
Women of my age have children but I'm ecstatic, thrilled beyond words that I am to be blessed with a grandchild. That said, I reckon there are enough "granny's" in the world so for that reason, and that reason only (!) I'm adopting the term for granny that is used in Connemara, Ireland - Mamo.
So, Mamo Margot it is. This is Mamo Margot's blog. Don't worry, it's not all going to be baby chat, this blog will be about life and love and work and making television. And writing. The wonderful, wonderful joy (and sometimes pain!) of writing.
And children and grandchildren! I hope you'll allow me to indulge, just a little...