Of Mothers And Daughters

Although I'm in the thick of it, for obvious reasons, the whole divorce situation is also a mammoth learning experience for me and those around me. Not a learning experience that I have any desire to repeat but one that exists nonetheless.

I've got two daughters, most of the regulars here will know that. They're scary, young and I love them to bits and I know that they find things trying and hard at times. If I ever feel sorry for myself, which does happen quite a bit, I think of how it must feel for them and that always knocks me back to Earth and helps to put things in perspective.

The dynamics of a nuclear family is something I've never paid a whole lot of attention to until this year. I've just accepted it and got on with life. But this year I've been thinking and trying to learn about the relationships and the interactions, mostly to try to help the girls through this difficult time. I've always been a fan of all those self help books and this year the Rhythmic bookshelf has not only moved to a different house but also been swelled by the addition of about three hundred and forty seven books on how to be a divorced Dad and all sorts of related topics.

One of the biggest discoveries is the way in which I, and their mother, have to try and play the roles of both parents when we have time with the girls. Although I get far less time with them than I used to I now have to try and cram much more into that time. No longer am I the father figure in a household where there's a mother figure too. Instead I'm a bit of both.

Yet, as I've tried to evolve into this new way of behaving I've observed that I can do many of the functional things. I can try to cook, not that I'm saying it's a mother's role, just that's how the things used to be. I've even tried to talk about periods and "women's" things. Admittedly that was possibly the most squirm inducing conversation I've ever had, probably for all parties too, but I tried and can still remember the looks on the girls' faces. But there are some motherly roles that I find very hard to fill. Dustin Hoffman may have been able to do it but we all have different skills. I bet he's pretty crap on the drums for a start.

I've realised in a short space of time that the relationship between a mother and a daughter is a unique and special one. Out of all the combinations of parent and child I think the mother / daughter one is the most fluid and seamless, maybe even the one with the strongest bond.

I've got two brothers, both of whom you know; Academic and Music Biz, we have no sisters, thank god. The dynamics of my nuclear family there are very man centred for obvious reasons. But the relationship between a father and his sons is wholly different to the mother / daughter one. We joke, we talk about cars, about music and often very flippant things. It's not that we're not close, we're just differently programmed.

Over the years I've noticed that mother / daughter relationships (let's call them MDRs) are a combination of friendship and sistership as well as parent/child.

I was in Kingston on Saturday taking the girls Christmas shopping MDRs were bombarding me from every direction. At each corner there was a MD out doing Christmas shopping. Me and the girls were happy as Larry but our conversation was largely built around

"What time shall we meet?" "what did you buy?" and "Dad can I have some more money?"

Yet each MDR was laughing and joking and chatting quite happily as if the shopping was merely a minor distraction that had to be done whilst talking and hanging. I was standing outside New Look, a girl's clothing shop that has become our regular meeting place, waiting for the girls who were late as usual.

As I stood there and watched pass by I saw a MD come out of the shop laden with bags. They were clearly enjoying the moment but, as they got out of the shop, they stoppped in their tracks. They both lifted their feet and took off their shoes, then swapped so that each was wearing the pair that the other was wearing, then walked off without a care in the world.

I was amazed and puzzled. Puzzled because I couldn't figure out why they had done. Amazed because if it had been my Dad suggesting it to me I would have first looked at him in total bewilderment, then asked him what the hell he was doing in women's shoes.

It just wouldn't have happened between a father and a son but, although puzzling, it looked very natural for an MD and they evidently didn't care what anyone else might have thought. To be fair they may have thought differently had they known that their behaviour would be splattered over the Sri Lankan blogosphere a few days later.

Us men don't talk to our parents in the way that girls communicate with their mothers. Ravana's post here on telling his mother about his blog made me laugh heartily. His description of his mother talking "at" him was not just a perfect narrative of a Sri Lankan mother and son relationship. No, it described every mother and son relationship that has ever existed.

If Ravana was a girl his mother, or her mother, would talk to him rather than at him. He (she) would go there every Sunday and they would have joyous conversations about everything that's happening in their lives. They'd laugh and bond and joke and listen.

Father and sons just exist in a happy state of equilibrium really. We get on, we joke and laugh but it's so different to an MDR. The father and daughter situation, one which I know well, is special in another different way.

We're almost like some sort of father figure to a daughter. We sort of hang around in the background and do a lot of watching from the sidelines, ever ready to run onto the pitch and sort things out but usually not until we're asked. We're often fixers and facilitators more than everyday operators.

Now I'm rapidly finding out more about the everyday operator's role, though not everyday.

It's an intriguing and steep learning curve.