It may be almost seventeen years since the cord that linked my son and I was cut, but today as my U post I can think of nothing more appropriate to be grateful for. When I was expecting my baby, there were nine and a half months of worry, vomiting and aches, nine and a half months of pregnancy planning and hopes. I was a young Mum, only nineteen when my son was laid into my arms, that moment was the single moment of my life where everything changed. Pregnant for nine and a half months (yes he was late) I was unprepared for seeing my baby, as I looked at the mop of dark hair and the crumpled nose of my son I was consumed with awe, amazement, responsibility and fear a unique mix of emotions that blend to make Mothers’ love.
My little man and I had been connected, he had grown within me I had felt him hiccup, turn and kick the whole time I knew that what joined us kept him safe, fed him gave him the equivalent of air to breath. A lifeline from mother to son that brought him to my arms, the umbilical cord was cut at quarter to one in the morning on the first day of May in the year 1996. This is my U of choice for the A to Z challenge I am grateful for the gift of motherhood, I am thankful for the joy of seeing my son grow into a man. Ultimately my unlimited gratitude on the day of U is for the umbilical chord for it nurtured my son from within until I could hold him, until he was ready, strong enough to breath on his own ready for us to watch him grow.
Now as I prepare for his seventeenth birthday I have to look at cutting the apron strings, For I know he is so nearly an independent man, a young man I am very, very proud of.
On this cold and dreary Saturday morning I headed to our local super market, to buy those things that are required. A simple list to enhance the store cupboard and possibly tempt my teenager into another taste of meat free cooking, this was the plan at least.
Now being a sandal wearing lentil muncher, I am not adverse to the odd pulse, from Dahl to Mental Lentil soup (my own recipe) these little spheres of veggi joy are included in many a meal. Much to the teen’s dissatisfaction. Indeed the young man of the house only has to hear pop of the kilner jar to decry “I ain’t eating that stuff” this is normally followed by a mumble about meat, a short compromise later and there are two dishes being prepared, one with the much worshipped flesh that he chooses the problem solved.. or is it?
I used to eat meat and indeed I was partial to a rare steak or indeed a good bacon sarni. When almost a decade ago I made the choice to change to a more vegetarian diet (I still eat some fish) Daniel was given the option to, making an informed choice is something that is welcomed in this home.
Over the years we have baked and roasted souped and curried cooked all kinds of ingredients in endless ways, but the lentil rebellion persists. Not a pulse will pass that boys lips. I thought I had struck a golden idea some years back when Dan delighted in a good curry. Excellent I thought and set about preparing a fine mushroom dasak for our dinner table… just as those little disks of orange deliciousness were to about to hit the cooking pot in he strolls, the curry phase was over!
There does come a time in every mother’s life when you can no longer avoid a fad with down right trickery. The dislike of broccoli cannot be overcome with a swift rebrand to “green cauliflower” and this is the point that we reached about 10 years ago but cooking twice still makes me a little sad.
So to today while in my heart I would love Dan to at least try something before he decides it is unpalatable I see him as the man he is becoming and will make a ham pasta bake alongside the lentil gardeners pie … I just hope that as he goes through life he only applies the “bean there done that attitude” to lentils.