Ibuku, ibuku.

           I love talking to my mom.

          Don't you?

         More so when I was younger. At that point, in my eyes, my mother could do no wrong. She's like Supermom with Super-Mommy-Healing powers. Bad-ass. She was my best friend. She doesn't judge. She listens. She tells you everything will be okay. She's a giver, never the taker. And all she wants in return is maayybee straight A's in school, do what I'm told and give me butt-ridiculous haircuts. When we were kids, my brothers weren't exactly besties with eachother, but they'd gang up whenever I'm around. So whenever I got into a fight with them, which I seem to always do, she'd put me aside first, tell them off and only then scold me when they're no where in sight. As a result they'd think I was favored as I was the youngest. Truth is, I really wasn't but I was ok with that. I had my mommy. It was us against the world. And then I got a B in my UPSR. I felt devestated that I dissapointed my mom but looking back, that exam was a joke. Ha~ But still, it was important to my mom, the mom-teacher with high hopes.

But then I would always wonder, are all moms perfect like that. Every child thinks their mom is the best.

*snickers*

         Entering my teens, terrified to be an outcast and feeling like I might not fit in, there she was, ready to be in ur posse. Just say the word and she's in. But as ur growing into adolescents, u start to see the world through new post-puberty-perspectives. A rebellious-dramatic one. Then before u know it, you're in boarding school. Which again, I didn't mind one bit because when some thought of it as prison, it was my paradise. Yeah I took time to fit in,especially since it was a new state, new culture with new traditions but in the end it became my world. I had best friends that I thought would always be with me untill the day I die. Coming home and staying there more than a week became a burden to me as she expected too much of me, things  beyond my capacity.After being in a place full of rules and regulation which I rarely do break, I'd go home thinking I can be my own boss. Boy was I wrong. I remember how I'de be scared to death whenever its nearing exams (I'm the last-minute type) and when PMR results came out, I was so thankful it was good. And just when I thought I had some kind of immunity for once, I got scolded on the same day of the results although I fail to remember why. It's always a tug of war between my mom and I. Fighting buddy call it what may.

           One thing that kinda bothered me was when she would sometimes compare me to my siblings when she'd mad. But to tell you the truth, I was never hurt if it was my sister because akak was also my superhero, second in command. I knew I would never fair better than her. Once I told people if death had to choose between us two, I'd volunteer. I'm grateful to my sister for so many things including the fact she took Medicine because mom gives me less pressure in the Straight A department (u kidding me?) But compare me to abang? Take shelter and prepare for atomic bomb to drop.

I love talking to her.

        I  love how my mom can sooth me my darkest panic hours. But this was more seen after she grew older, and had seen my sister go through similar situatuions when she was studying. When I feel hopeless during exams, I'd call her and cry my heart out and there she was on the other end encouraging me on,  assuring me everything will be fine, to face it head on and accept whatever hurdles coming my way, "Because u did ur best!! ", she would tell me. And I feel a pang of guilt. Deep inside I felt that I hadn't done my best and somehow I betrayed her trust.

           I love talking to my mom.

       We talk about really random things. Things I heard from friends,my teachers,even on the street. Things that she could probably care less about. Sometimes(most of the time) I tell her my secrets, but when you have a mom and sister, secrets don'treally stay secrets for long. (old = forgetful) Sometimes I tell her things about my bf that is probably not the best idea . But I'm open like that. I'm not 'a box of chocolate' I guess. I'm spontaneous like that. Haha. I actually tell bfie nearly everything. Whats annoying is that bfie and mommy think very much alike. They nag the same way. They always say marry someone like ur dad. How abt mom? *shivers*  My sibs love talking to my mom. Their favourite past time is lying around all huddled up on my moms bed and leisurely sembang2 with her. Their problems, uncertainties, future plans. Like small children they lie there with puppy dog eyes. The more the merrier.

          But one thing I do regret most now about talking/ telling my mom is about stories of how privileged my friends are. I'd go, "She got this, He bought that, She lives there, Her parents got her that and that on top of that. His father works here, her mother works there, they renovated " And then I wonder if they ever felt hurt by me telling them all this as if I was comparing my life to theirs. Complaining why I don't get the same things. How I'm just a parasite to my friends. As if I on the other hand is underprivileged. Because, I don't feel that way at all. Yes I can be envious at times, but I would also never ask them for something that they have unless I felt that they could afford it and I really needed it. We are not rich, but we are comfortable. Although I do think my mom needs to stopslow down on shopping ridiculous unnecessary furniture. -_-

           Yesterday I watched one of my fav childhood movie, 'Now & Then'  and something Brendan Frasier's character said there made perfect sense. "Your mom's not always right" Then Teeny or Sam said, "No shit! " Got that right. Nobodies perfect. Nobody in this current world atleast. Although mom's do stubbornly tend to think THEY are always right, especially when it comes to her children. I do admit they have a hell of a sixth sense. Remember si Tanggang?

So lesson of the day is, when mom nags , avoid EYE CONTACT, Zip it, nod and say "Yes, mam!"
So after 9 months of pregnancy, hours of labour + lbr pain, an epiosotomy + stitches, years of shit-loaded-nappys, nip cracks, insomnia and no me-time. Its the least you can do .


                                   


Note : Tonight --> Attack Of the Compulsive Blogger