When I was a little girl, I thought my mother spoke the best English, told the best stories, baked the best cake, cooked the yummiest, and hugged the best.
As I have grown older and supposedly wiser, I have noticed that my mom speaks with that thick Cebuano accent, tells the nonsensical stories over and over again, eats the best cake and leaves the crumbs that the ants mirthfully feast over, cooks the same food as last night and so many other things.
When parents get older, they become huge pain in the asses. They become annoying and I can’t blame those kids who couldn’t wait to leave home and be on their own. I know how that feels. I feel that every now and then and I actually went ahead and did just that in the past. And yeah, parents have this tendency to want to monopolize your attention.
But going back to my mother, she’s still my best friend. And in those mornings when I have to pick up after her, and when I feel the urge to scream because she woke me up just to tell me how awful the maid is–I think about the truckloads of things that she did for me that made me the person that I am now.
Yes, I am not perfect but I can’t blame my mom for that. Mothers touch us and kiss us and hug us when we’re little and they count our fingers to make sure that we don’t grow up to be freaks with 13 fingers or just 7–and even if we do, love us anyway. And for that, we become good people. But somewhere along the way, we go astray. And we can’t forever blame our parents for that, especially not our moms. Come on, we grow wiser, we make our own choices–our moms no longer go with us when we buy the pairs of jeans that don’t really look so nice on us.
I love my mom. We laugh a lot when we’re together. We forget our chores when we bump into each other in doorways, hallways, and even in the bathroom! Dinners are always an affair for us–even when there’s just the two of us, well, with my Pop hurling expletives at someone on TV in the background. And when we soak our feet in our makeshift foot spa pails, we talk about the funny stuff that we find on the most mundane of things and events. And when we watch those sappy soap operas, we still share that wad of tissue. Yes, my mom rants and nags big time but for all that she is, I love her and it kills me when people do not treat her well.
I feel bad when I don’t get to treat her that well.
When I get rich, I’ll buy my mom the nice clean house that she has always wanted and give her sole custody of the bandwidth so she can play online crossword puzzles anytime she likes, and hire a very able masseuse so she will have that perfect spa experience at home and make her feel like she’s the queen that she should have been a long time ago. Oh, and pay all the bills so she won’t have to worry about them. And I’ll buy her a shiny red car that’ll take her to places that she has always wanted to be. If I still have time, I’ll take her to Venice so she can ride in one of those gondolas–that has been her lifelong dream.
And when I feel that urge to scream at her and when that ungrateful bone works up, I’ll read this post again so I’ll remember how much I really love her and how much I should love her.