As the years drew on I finally convinced my parents I would call them once a week, on a Sunday, to chat for an hour. I didn’t tell them the hour part, they would have never agreed to that, but it ended up being an hour usually. They would not call me, or my brother, in fear of interrupting us. However, when I called them I invariably felt as thought I was interrupting them! After ten or eleven rings, no answering machine in the depths of the English countryside, my mother would answer the phone with a terse,
“Hello!”
“Hello Mummy it’s me!” I’d say.
“Who?” she’d ask in an irritated voice, as if I were a stranger.
“Vivienne.” I’d say, how many other callers call her Mummy?
“Oh, hello darling,” her voice would soften and we’d be off!
My father, after getting my mother a chair to sit on, she was in the hall (the phone is always in the hall in England), would pick up the extension in the bedroom…and breathe. My mother would comment frequently during the conversation,
“What’ that noise?”
“What noise?” My father would answer.
“Breathing,” she’d say.
“That’s me,” he’d respond, “should I stop?” English laughter bursts over the phone.
“No, but you don’t have to breathe into the receiver!”
As they grew older the reparte changed slightly, my father would say in response to the breathing question,
“Well, at least you know I’m still alive!”
We, my mother and I, would talk about life, and books and children and bridge and the dog. Daddy would listen and doze and breathe.
Today I call my mother every other day. She’s a reluctant widow. She still refers to herself as we, and tells me all about what they have done that day. Now, she answers the phone with,
“Who is it?” In a very defiant tone. Enough to put all but the most persisitent of callers off, which I am.
I monologue with her (she is too hard of hearing to really have a conversation) for about 2 minutes and then she “lets me go!”
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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