I've only just started breathing after my own mother paralysed me with embarrassment. I ask myself "why am I about to share this story with you?" and the answer I can only guess, is that your laughter is worth more to me than my own dignity.
Just an hour ago my mam was boring me to near comatose with a bag of Matalan clothes she bought my dad, bragging about the value of each £2 garment that she produced from the bag. Just as I was about to nod off she perked up "I've got something for you too Kai" and handed me a multi-pack of black socks;
"And listen Kai, please don't use them for anything filthy...."
PAUSE THIS MOMENT
I'm going to take you back to 1998 when I was a 14 year old, skinny, specky, ginger boy. I just got home from skiving school and as I opened the door to my parents house my heart sank to the pit of my soul. What I saw in front of me in the passage was worse than anything I could have possibly imagined, my unblinking eyes gazed horrified at what was in front of me; In the small passage between the stairs and the living room door where I was so used to seeing my sisters bike and the hoover on a daily basis, was a mattress... my mattress... my OLD mattress.
My school bag hit the floor and I broke my personal best time for getting up the stairs, I burst into my bedroom, taking the doors off the hinges and low in behold there was my freshly made bed complete with NEW mattress. This was the moment of truth, I slowly lifted it up from one corner, a manoeuvre I'd become all to familiar doing with my old one and sure enough my life was over. All I saw was wooden lats, lots of wooden lats in clear view. The image still haunts me....
...My Socks were gone.
My mam had replaced my mattress and personally moved the socks. The beautiful angel of a lady that is my mam had been to a dark place that no woman should ever go, she delved into the spaff riddled belly of hell underneath her disgusting adolescent sons mattress and had herself a little tidy up. I felt both nauseous and suicidal as the reality of the situation set in, how could I do this to the person I love the most? Do I apologise? How do I even face her again? I can never look my mam in the eye, the innocent mother-son bond that was my safe haven in this cruel world was compromised...
...I'd lost my mam.
After what felt like days I finally showed my face, my adorable wee mammy was pottering about the house doing chores, being her usual chirpy self when she spotted me and reacted to her ugly, vile, abomination of a creation with the active unconditional love that only the parent of a ginger child can possess; "Hi Gorgeous, how was school?" ...as if nothing had even happened. I trod sheepishly in my house for the days that followed, waiting for the horrific moment to be brought up, but days became weeks and weeks became months. Removing those catch rags from under my bed must have been my mothers Naam. She knew what she did that day, I knew what she did that day, and she knew that I knew what she saw that day. But Linda Humphries didn't utter a single word, she just went on loving me, and raised me to be the man I am today.
LET'S PLAY BACK THAT MOMENT
Fast forward 15 years to 2013, where I'm a 29 year old, self employed home owner, visiting my proud parents on an impromptu visit to tell them about my travels, catch up on family affairs and drop off laundry. When my mam finally breaks, hands me a multi-pack of Matilan black socks and with admirable nonchalance, gets the weight of over a decades suppressed trauma off her shoulders. Reducing me to the 14 year old, specky ginger gimp that I was that day with the following calmly delivered rant:
"And listen Kai, please don't use them for anything filthy... Since you've moved out I've always bought your underwear and done your laundry and well, there are always less socks in your laundry than what I'm buying you, there's a recession you know, you can't keep going through socks like this, I'm going to start buying you tissues for Christmas..."
Then the moment arrived
"...That day when I changed your mattress, I couldn't understand why your socks were so hard, they were like corregated iron, I had to ask your dad. I would have bloody well used gloves if I had known it was something that disgusting, I just thought you would have grown out of it by now you know, LOOK, Just use them as socks this time!!!"
I have feared this day my entire life, I still haven't responded to my mam, she's just pottering about the house doing chores as I type looking liberated by her recent actions. The only way I felt fit to deal with it was to write this blog! So I hope you enjoyed it.
Just an hour ago my mam was boring me to near comatose with a bag of Matalan clothes she bought my dad, bragging about the value of each £2 garment that she produced from the bag. Just as I was about to nod off she perked up "I've got something for you too Kai" and handed me a multi-pack of black socks;
"And listen Kai, please don't use them for anything filthy...."
PAUSE THIS MOMENT
I'm going to take you back to 1998 when I was a 14 year old, skinny, specky, ginger boy. I just got home from skiving school and as I opened the door to my parents house my heart sank to the pit of my soul. What I saw in front of me in the passage was worse than anything I could have possibly imagined, my unblinking eyes gazed horrified at what was in front of me; In the small passage between the stairs and the living room door where I was so used to seeing my sisters bike and the hoover on a daily basis, was a mattress... my mattress... my OLD mattress.
My school bag hit the floor and I broke my personal best time for getting up the stairs, I burst into my bedroom, taking the doors off the hinges and low in behold there was my freshly made bed complete with NEW mattress. This was the moment of truth, I slowly lifted it up from one corner, a manoeuvre I'd become all to familiar doing with my old one and sure enough my life was over. All I saw was wooden lats, lots of wooden lats in clear view. The image still haunts me....
...My Socks were gone.
My mam had replaced my mattress and personally moved the socks. The beautiful angel of a lady that is my mam had been to a dark place that no woman should ever go, she delved into the spaff riddled belly of hell underneath her disgusting adolescent sons mattress and had herself a little tidy up. I felt both nauseous and suicidal as the reality of the situation set in, how could I do this to the person I love the most? Do I apologise? How do I even face her again? I can never look my mam in the eye, the innocent mother-son bond that was my safe haven in this cruel world was compromised...
...I'd lost my mam.
After what felt like days I finally showed my face, my adorable wee mammy was pottering about the house doing chores, being her usual chirpy self when she spotted me and reacted to her ugly, vile, abomination of a creation with the active unconditional love that only the parent of a ginger child can possess; "Hi Gorgeous, how was school?" ...as if nothing had even happened. I trod sheepishly in my house for the days that followed, waiting for the horrific moment to be brought up, but days became weeks and weeks became months. Removing those catch rags from under my bed must have been my mothers Naam. She knew what she did that day, I knew what she did that day, and she knew that I knew what she saw that day. But Linda Humphries didn't utter a single word, she just went on loving me, and raised me to be the man I am today.
LET'S PLAY BACK THAT MOMENT
Fast forward 15 years to 2013, where I'm a 29 year old, self employed home owner, visiting my proud parents on an impromptu visit to tell them about my travels, catch up on family affairs and drop off laundry. When my mam finally breaks, hands me a multi-pack of Matilan black socks and with admirable nonchalance, gets the weight of over a decades suppressed trauma off her shoulders. Reducing me to the 14 year old, specky ginger gimp that I was that day with the following calmly delivered rant:
"And listen Kai, please don't use them for anything filthy... Since you've moved out I've always bought your underwear and done your laundry and well, there are always less socks in your laundry than what I'm buying you, there's a recession you know, you can't keep going through socks like this, I'm going to start buying you tissues for Christmas..."
Then the moment arrived
"...That day when I changed your mattress, I couldn't understand why your socks were so hard, they were like corregated iron, I had to ask your dad. I would have bloody well used gloves if I had known it was something that disgusting, I just thought you would have grown out of it by now you know, LOOK, Just use them as socks this time!!!"
I have feared this day my entire life, I still haven't responded to my mam, she's just pottering about the house doing chores as I type looking liberated by her recent actions. The only way I felt fit to deal with it was to write this blog! So I hope you enjoyed it.
Could be worse Kai, I had a posh wank and left the blob down the side of my bed, my mam found it and I was mortified.
ReplyDelete3 months later my DAD (no honour among blokes it seems) brought it up during a meeting with my TEACHER.
Dear god.
DeleteFortunately my room was next to the loo and I always had a box of tissues. Why not just wash the socks in the sink? Your fourteen year old self must have hated future you.
ReplyDelete