Quietly celebrated Mother’s day Today. I am not a woman who notes every special event –I should, but I am currently struggling with my children’s birthdates that I do not have the time and patience to add “special days” that is mostly dictated by tradition and enhanced by commercialism.
I have nothing against tradition, in fact, despite our gadgets and techie toys, most of our perspective are still traditional, shaped by prejudices, sharpened by old lessons and hardened by our mother’s nagging.
I, for example, am battling the chain of domestic chores that our patriarchal society tie on women. I’ve struggled to become an independent modern woman, with a career to toy with and a clean sink to go home to. I was successful in avoiding the dishes, but I still find myself washing plates of different kinds. It’s like leaving my simple little kitchen to prove that I can, only to find myself doing THE task I’m avoiding — but this time, in a more complicated and bigger food station.
My mother, in all her strictness and monologues, was not wrong when she said that I will someday be like her. In all my daring attempts to test my boundaries, I find myself creating a pen around my children’s. In my careless wanderings, I find myself holding back my kid’s attempt to explore outside the line I set for them. In all my modern perspective, I still cannot help myself from raising my kids the way my mother raised me, not as tight — but close nonetheless.
I stil don’t understand the concept of nagging, but I think it has to do with the flood of information that you want to share and the rush of emotions and the limitations of language.
The experience of wanting to protect the people you care about is so intense that words are not enough to cater your flowing affection. My mother, was scared to lose me as she watched me struggle as I try to break the cocoon she made for me… She felt a sense of urgency as she watched me peel off layer after layer of the sheltered life she gave me that each verbal reminder is thrusted with a forceful blow hitting the mark harder than usual.
She unknowingly bruised my memory, wounded my soul, and hurt my pride.We always hurt the people we love the most. But it’s been years since I’ve stopped licking my wounds. It’s a love and hate relationship — the best of its kind.
I am a mother now. Or trying to be a good one. But I will always be a little girl in my mom’s eyes.
*smiles I find nothing wrong with that.