Finding Mom on the Other Side of the World

Apologies for yet again being MIA for a few weeks and obviously leaving all my faithful readers (hey again, Dad.) on the edge of your seats! I'm sure you're dying to know all about my latest adventures! Well, to fill you in, I spent 4 days in Bendigo, Victoria and 1 week in Kyneton, Victoria with some really amazing people and had great visits. Currently, I've been in staying Sydney with the O'hare family,  some of my Mom's best friends back from her globetrotting days in the 70's (I visited them for a weekend back in 2009 when I was studying at Deakin). In a brief summary, IT'S BEEN FREAKIN' AWESOME!!!!11!1!!one!!!1!!!gwa35#Q$wRQ@#R&%#$Q^#$T%$^&%!!!

...well...that being said, mayhaps I should provide some more details (OR LEAVING YOU HANGING FOR ANOTHER 3 WEEKS?! MWAHAHAHAHA...okay okay fine). Awesome parts of my stay include, but are in no way limited to: not having to be within 9,000 miles (er, I guess it's 14484.1 km) of Hurricane Sandy, discovering the wonders of cappuccinos and nursing my newfound caffeine addiction, having perfect weather nearly every day, kickin' it on world renowned beaches, figuring out the train system and getting around the city ALL BY MYSELF (take that, former small town ignorance and anxiety towards mass transit systems!), taking pictures of Sydney standing on the Harbour Bridge, seeing a show at the Opera House (why yes, I did snootily stick up my nose and straighten my posture as I typed that), and of course staying with an absolutely amazing family  that I feel like a part of. However, the best part of my stay in Sydney has come as an unexpectedly and in the form of very old pictures and learning about my mother when she was my age from some of her best friends. 

At the tender age of 23 and with this baby face, I'm not exactly an expert about being married and having kids and a job and stuff like that, but I'm pretty sure that being all grown up and junk means that you're supposed to be responsible and you change quite a bit from your crazy youth. Or so I've learned from years of sitcom shows. In the 21 years I had of being around my mom, she was always working and in mom-mode, teaching me right from wrong, how to be a good person, take care of myself, etc. (but I still refuse to make my bed every morning and separate whites from colors in the laundry, by the way...REBEL).  But of course, this means that I never got to see the young and free at heart woman that I'm sure had to exist. I mean, my Mom played rugby and lived in Australia (HOLY CRAP ME TOO!!!) before my Dad and I were ever in the picture, so she had to be a total boss and a damn fun person to be around, right? 

Being in Sydney with Mommabear's old friends has allowed me to hear a lot of [crazy] [funny] [ridiculous] stories and see awesome pictures from way back when [she was a baller]. My personal favorites were the infamous halloween parties that they used to have here in Australia--a tradition which Mom started with Geoff, Sue, and Ian because halloween was not a big deal like it is in America:

Hmmmmm.

Mom, Ian, Sue, Geoff, Andy

       Of course, there are much more incriminating and outrageous photos, but something tells me that I would be struck by lightning if I made those public. I will tell you that several photos of Mom and her friends made me double over in laughter and disbelief. Hopping on the journey down memory lane with Ian, Sue, and Geoff did a bit more than tickle my funny bone, though; I've gotten a chance to really see who my mother was and what she was like when she was my age and far from the person I always knew as Mommy. Dare I say...we would have gotten along famously and painted the town red.

Pawing through photos of myself and family on the other side of the world is a really weird experience. Looking at images of the ever-evolving Hughes clan sent over a period of 30 years is wild enough to begin with (we're a fascinating bunch who tend to be dreadful at candids, despite being really, really ridiculously good-looking), let alone finding them at someone's house in Sydney. Dear god, why did visual documentation of 2 years of a mullet get archived on the other side of the world? Painful reminders of awful haircuts past aside, it was completely amazing. Pieces of my family that at the time seemed so nondescript and were only meant to keep dear friends 10,000 miles away updated have survived and turned themselves into true treasures for me. Take this little gem right here:

I have absolutely no memory of this picture being taken, and have never seen it before. But when I found it this past week, I actually lost my breath for a moment. This was a "wedding dress" that mom made for me when I was 5 or 6; duh, I was born to be a Disney princess and I always knew it. I remember going to the craft store with her and getting to pick the pattern, and watching her work on her sewing machine for what seemed like months as I anxiously waited--and probably swallowed a few pennies or whatever it is that impatient and hyper kids did back then. Up until I saw this, though, I had absolutely no memory of that dress, where it even is now, or that excitement that I felt when it was finally finished. Having that all flood back to me in a matter of seconds was indescribable. It wasn't just the reminiscing of that treasure from my childhood that took my breath away, but of really and truly realizing what went into it, and how much of my mother's love is genuinely captured within that 4"x6" photograph that probably only I can recognize without the background story being given. Aside from that silky frock that I'm sure I ultimately dirtied up a bit with my tomboyish behavior, it made me stop and reflect on all that my Mom put into motherhood. Really made me think about how much she had always done for me and how much love she's constantly given me, whether I recognized it at the time or not, and I cannot begin to describe how grateful I am to have been so lucky as to have her as a parent. Oh yeah: Dad, you aren't too shabby either. Well, now that my face seems to be leaking, onward with this narrative...

One of Mom's best friends, Ian, passed on to me a few snail mail correspondences between he and my mother from when I was really little. Hearing about myself as described by my mother to someone on the other side of the world made me quite emotional. Reading that I "add so much sunshine" to her life was just overwhelming. Sure, she told me all time, but having momma brag about you like that to a friend on the other side of the world? Wowie zowie. Indescribable. I may have shed one tear...maybe two.

Both this trip and Mom's friends have also made me stunningly aware of how similar Mom and I truly are, and how much more like her I'm becoming as I continue to reel in the years. Lots of things are really little, such as taking our coffee the same way (CAFFEEEEEEINE!), being told we have similar voices, interacting with children in a similar manner (I got the pleasure of handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters at the O'hare household), wanting to spend every spare day at the beach, likes, dislikes, etc. Ladies, you know that moment when you're growing up and all of a sudden you shriek "OH MY GOD I'M BECOMING MY MOTHER!"? Well, hearing about the badass that was Cathy Hughes before 1989 when I brightened the world with my presence has certainly driven me to that conclusion. I am, in fact, becoming my mother. However, it's not an "oh my god I'm becoming my mother because I'm starting to spray Lysol every time someone sneezes and worry about my kids not eating their broccoli" kind of thing. It's an "oh my god I'm becoming like my mother when she was my age and damn, that woman was awesome. I'm completely okay with this!" kind of thing. I am certainly more of a chip off the ol' block than I ever realized before this, and I could not be more proud of it if I tried. God I wish I could build a time machine and hang out with her in the 70's! 

                                        

1978 vs. 2011. Time warp. Also, I need that outfit she's rocking.

Lastly, I've been privy to all the hot gossip of 1980...i.e. the year that my parents met when my mom was home in the states for the x-mas holidays. And let me tell ya, that story gave me all sorts of warm fuzzies and the giggles. In a nut shell, dear old Dad was one smitten kitten and after knowing him for 3ish weeks, Mom made the decision to pack up her life in Sydney and move back home to be with him. Oh-Em-Gee they were TOTALLY living in sin until they married in 1981 :-0 But moral of this story is that my heart pretty much melted when I heard all of this, especially hearing how goo-goo they were for each other. It's not that I never saw my parents show love towards each other, but I certainly never saw the fairy tale-esque part of it by the time I came around. Again, more facets of my mother and her past that I'm discovering here that are reshaping the image of the woman that raised me. Considering all the similarities I've seen between my mother and myself in the last 2 weeks, perhaps I'll even be swept off my feet by some studly foreign man and move to a different country to be with him! (DAD CALM DOWN AND GO BREATH INTO A PAPER BAG, TRY TO RELAX I'M JUST JOKING)

It would be an understatement to say that this stay in Sydney has been cathartic and therapeutic for me. It's a little odd to think that going to the other side of the world is where truly where I found my mother's presence, and that this is where I learned the most about her that I have in...I don't even know when. All from old pictures and hearing stories about the glory days from her friends. I've been having an amazing trip in Australia and have so far loved every minute of it, but there is no doubt in my mind that being in Sydney, hearing Mom's stories, discovering who she was and seeing her affection for me from an outsiders perspective is the thing that has made me the most genuinely happy that I have been since I've been here. And that is just an awesome feeling!