Well, that's the thing isn't it? The world is a better place for having your mum around and I don't think any of us are too old or too fat or too independent to want Mum every now and again. And I think mums really dig that because the truth is you never stop being a mum no matter how big your baby is.
So it was today that after I had dropped my 16-year-old "baby" at school for an exam I headed off for a head-clearing walk to South Bank. There the birds were making one hell of a racket in what looked to a non avian observer like a reminder call to this year's chicks who were starting to show their independence. It was all very touching (and all too brief because this mum's taxi was due back at school). But as I headed back I got a call from my own mum wanting to know if I was okay.
"Same old, Same old," I replied. "Why?" Apparently mum's friend Lois had said I wasn't on the radio this morning and clearly that must mean something was terribly wrong. That makes any mum's heart race and gets the dialing finger into action. It's like this. While I might like to act like Batfink and assume a pose that says "Your bullets can not harm me, my wings are like a shield of steal" some weeks you just are not bullet proof. This is one of those weeks. Too little sleep and too much stress (aka all work and no play) makes Susan a sad, sleepy sook. So I bailed. It's like that thing on the aircraft where you are told to put your own oxygen mask on before helping others. To be of any use steering my baby through the last week of Year 11, I have to first look after myself. By next week I confidently predict I'll be back. If not I'll get a note from my mum.