My mum was larger than life, a 1.5 m tall Irish pistol who could cut you in two with a lash of her tongue, and in her next breath, charm you with her hospitality. She thrived on being the centre of attention.
In her mid-40s, she was a divorced mother of two when she unexpectedly fell pregnant and married Dad, a dapper 60-year-old. In addition to her kids, she became a stepmother to his teen daughter, and within months a new baby – me.
It can’t have been easy to juggle her blended family. But she coped with it all until one Friday afternoon, a week after my 16th birthday, Mum told me she was leaving my father and me the next day.
At age 60, she was moving directly next door into a house she’d bought a few years earlier to live with the three hot college lads she’d been renting it to. Looking back, I think the purchase – which she’d made without discussing with my dad – was part of her exit plan.
Mum said bluntly that I was ‘big and ugly enough’ to take care of Dad, the dog and myself. While that sounded hurtful, her endearing manner and wry smile told me she believed I could cope without her, or so she hoped – giving her the justified excuse to leave.
She craved independence, while Dad was a traditionalist. Their relationship was indifferent and, if I’m honest, loveless. Between the arguments, threats to leave and mood swings, the marriage was over long before I had a clue.
In the meantime, Mum’s temper flared more frequently and I felt I was dodging bullets. My brother and I would ponder, ‘Whose turn is it to be in the doghouse?’
This story is from the Woman&Home; May 2023 edition of woman & home South Africa.
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This story is from the Woman&Home; May 2023 edition of woman & home South Africa.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
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