my mum

A few weeks ago we were chatting to my parents and my mum announced that she was coming to visit us.  We didn't quite believe her until she said she'd booked her flights and was braving the 30 hour trip from the UK to Australia.  Now, my mum's not the best traveller; she worries about the long, uncomfortable flights, about dealing with customs and immigration, about feeling jetlagged... all completely understandable, but I've been trying to convince her that spending time in the sun with her grandsons should more than compensate her for the long and difficult trip.  It's taken almost seven years, but our nagging seems to have paid off and in the early hours of last Friday morning, and after lots of uncertainty over whether she would actually arrive (thanks Eyiafiallajokull), my mum arrived for a three week stay.

And it's lovely having her here.  Not just because there's an extra pair of hands to help with the boys, not because she's taken over our kitchen to make us the most delicious meals, not because she's fun to hang out with.  But just because she's my mum.