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THE MORNING I JOINED THE ELECT
For Christmas 2000, my sister Leonie gave me a handsome silver key fob engraved
with the title “Matriarch-Elect”. I was dead chuffed. And dead tired.
On Christmas morning, my grandson Corbin was discharged from the Special Care
Nursery at Ipswich General Hospital where he’d spent his first 8 days, after making a
dramatic entrance to the world via emergency caesarean nearly a month before he was
expected. I’d taken his mum up to the hospital first thing, to give him his feed and see
him get his picture taken with Santa, then raced home to get on with the last of the
cooking, wrapping and packing necessary before we set off to spend the day with the
whole family at my parents’ house. Cecily rang about 9.00am, sobbing, “Mum, Mum!”
For the first time in my life I went literally weak at the knees, dreading to hear what
was next. “Mum, he’s coming home!”
I’ll spare you the details of the next few hours -- suffice to say that we finally arrived at
my parents’ home at 1.30pm, too exhausted to savour the thrill of having the boy home
for his first Christmas. I bolted off to the spare room for a sleep. Cheers all!
(It had been rather a big few weeks. Two weeks on jury service, empanelled on a rape
trial which ended just in time for me to arrange a fitting send-off for my elder daughter
Frances, who basely abandoned her ageing parents to join her boyfriend in England for
two years, the cow. The day Fran left (Saturday 9 December), my sister’s
father-in-law died. I’d promised him I’d give the eulogy at his funeral, which was the
following Friday. On Sunday 17th, Cecily went into premature labour, with the baby
in breech presentation).
So there we all were. After nearly quarter of a century spent trying to come to terms
with my real and perceived inadequacies as a parent, as well as dealing with the
baggage I guess all of us carry from our own childhood, and just beginning to relish
the idea of being my own woman, I had become a full-time Nana.
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HEAD START FOR A MATRIARCH-IN-WAITING
Eldest daughter. Big Sister. Capricorn. Too smart by half. Able to do just about anything once I believed I could. Uptight controlling Capricorn father. Strong, even-handed, stressed, repressed and depressed Libra mother. Parent and grandparents all with Great Expectations. Imbued with a powerful set of values that emphasised practicality, caution, judgement, common sense, fairness, self-effacement and duty. Complex emotional undercurrents and a volatile mix of family personalities. Constant exposure to books. Very little money, and the expectation of do it yourself and make do.
Well. I did reasonably well in school, but never quite as well as was expected of me. Ditto university. Worked part-time all through to help pay my way. Did the sensible thing and took an honours degree in psychology, virtually guaranteeing me a profession and a nice safe Public Service job at the end of it. Got married to my first serious boyfriend (whom I'd known since primary school). Got the nice safe (professional) job. Had two kids, meanwhile keeping on at a different nice safe job.
AND THEN...it all got messy. (You can read more about that in Black Dogs and Funny Habits, if you're so inclined).
That's more or less how I started out on the doodoo-strewn path to matriarchhood. (Matriarchy? Matriarchness? Whatever...) Anyway, I finished up (ie. back where I started at the top of the page) with:
- a second marriage that isn't precisely love's young dream but has by God lasted
- two grown-up daughters, one of whom is powering on making her own way along the potholed path of mature adulthood; and the other still flailing in a mire of personal and social problems but with a survivor's strength
- a large extended family, like me in a state of functional disrepair: funny, talented, cynical, eccentric, volatile, loving and very loyal
- a "nervous breakdown" and semi-retirement, followed by a scaled-down but comfortable part-time career
- a live-in son-in-law who isn't but may as well be (and a jolly nice young dude, too), AND
- shared parental responsibility (with said quasi-son-in-law) for the care and raising of my grandson, who is the apple of my eye.
And as far as the last point is concerned, while it's not what I would have chosen (had my best-case hopes been fulfilled), I couldn't be happier.
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THE CONTINUING SAGA
You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll run away! This page will change your life!! (Think how much better yours will look in comparison).
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