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17th May 2016
04:03pm BST
I've come to realise that ignoring her is futile (anyone else's mother miss call them 17 times in a row if they don't pick up? Anyone???) The only thing I can do to console myself is have a little rant with similarly disappointing daughters. I'm toying with the idea of starting a disappointing daughters support group where we could eat cupcakes and trade stories of who's more of a let-down to their mother. It sounds really comforting and delicious...
Here're 10 Things Our Mothers Officially Need to Shut Up About
Our Weight
No need to continuously throw in 'subtle' mentions of our nearest Slimming World Class, we've got the Google also.
Who's Getting Married
"Carmel Monaghan is getting married and she's not even pretty." "What exactly does 'pretty' have to do with getting married?" we scream-think. And why are you so hell-bent on marrying us off? We're not in a Jane Austen novel here; the family estate isn't going to be entailed away to the nearest male relative.
Who Got 680 Points in the Leaving
I did the Leaving more than 10 years ago and The Mother has never recovered from my lacklustre performance in it. Even during the speeches at my wedding, mention was made of my obstinate refusal to do more than six subjects for the Leaving and my subsequent dropping of Higher Maths. Seriously. It's over. Let. It. Go
Who's Having a Baby
Either you're not having a baby and they're pissed or you are having a baby and they're pissed – there's just no pleasing them on this topic. They go from obsessively monitoring your birth control solutions and lecturing about the scourge of unplanned pregnancy to suddenly obsessively watching your womb and hinting about pitter patter and grandchildren; it's very disconcerting.
Saoirse, Mary from Bridge Club's Daughter
Tell me everyone's got a Saoirse in their lives, please? The impossibly perfect distant cousin or friend's daughter who is actually the daughter your mother always wanted, when instead she was burdened with you, eternal disappointment and serial ignorer of maternal phone calls. Saoirse is called upon to illustrate your every daughterly failing between the year of your birth to present day. I hate Saoirse.
Our Health Insurance
I've said it 8,965 times I'm with the VHI, I swear. Still she refuses to believe that I've got the health insurance under control. Micro-managing in the extreme.
That Time That We Said We Were Going to the Cinema But Instead Went Drinking Cans at the Esso
That was FIFTEEN YEARS ago, get over it. We no longer lie and make up bullshit stories (for the most part) and we drink indoors now.
Our Hair
The hair is never right, is it? Either it's too long "Would you not cut it? You look like a stripper." Or we make the FATAL error of getting it cut without first consulting her. "If I'd known you were getting a fringe cut in, I would've shown you that picture of me from 1994. We can't wear fringes…" she says shaking her head sadly.
Our Clothes
Is it just my mother who has a special way of saying "You look nice" that sounds distinctly like I don't look nice at all? That I look the opposite of 'nice' in fact. Luckily I've developed a reasonably thick skin – a leather hide if you will – as a result of being her daughter.
The Hell Hole We Live In
No matter how perfectly acceptable the hell hole we live in may be, the mother acts like she's visiting a third world country any time she visits. Convinced that I live like an animal, mine brings her own milk and toilet paper and always makes sure to put her coat on any surface before sitting down.
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