Janet Christie's Mum's the Word - Dipping the toe into family nights

Well, they said they wanted normal

Mum's the Word. Pic: Adobe

Talking to (name drop alert) psychotherapist Philippa Perry who tells me that the biggest downfall in relationships is making assumptions. I mention that I’d assumed I ‘over mother’, my natural instinct being to neb into my adult children’s lives. My offspring have in fact used the words ‘over mothering’ in a bid to explain the reason for a possible lack of ‘progress’ on their part, ie I’ve held them back by colluding with their helplessness, which is a cheek but I’ve gone with it and endeavoured to keep my nose out of their business.

“Over mother, under mother, you can’t win,” says Perry. “The best thing is just to ask what they want.” Genius. Why didn’t I think of that?

So it transpires that my kidults would like us to spend more family time together since we now all live in different households. They’d like to ‘hang out’ and do ‘normal things’ (good luck with normal) like bicker and snack and play games and catch up with who’s doing what, not so much quality time as quotidian.

So Middle Child and I hit on the idea of a monthly Family Night where we’ll meet at someone’s flat (we’re spread out in different properties but all within a mile).

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‘Low key’, I said, ‘just snacks, maybe a game’, but on the clan whatsapp Family Night grows arms and legs and Youngest and I arrive at Eldest’s with two carrot cakes (I’ve done one without nuts, raisins or lactose and one with), a load of sushi and a shirt of Middle’s that Youngest was sending to the recycling because she no longer needed to borrow it but I rescued. (See? Interfering. Overmothering).

This’ll be good I think, and as we knock then wait I have a word with myself. I won’t assume, I’ll ask, and I WILL refrain from judgemental comments.

“Hello!,” says Middle Child, opening the door - he’s beaten us there and is butlering for the host who I can see lying on a sofa in Arthur Dent Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy check dressing gown, game controller in hand, with Other Parent already relaxing in a chair.

“Welcome to Family Night,” says Middle and steps back to welcome us over the threshold, whereupon my eyes drop to his feet and I see one big toe protruding from a sock, so instead of ‘hello’, say:

“Haven’t you got any better socks than that?”

I’ll try again next month.

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