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motherhood

motherhood

Happy Mother’s Day!

May 8, 2009

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It’s finally mother’s day this Sunday. A time to celebrate moms and their supreme awesomeness.

I feel like it’s been a long time coming. I haven’t even been a mom for a whole year and it seems like I’ve been waiting endlessly for my first real mother’s day. I’d like to say that the rewards of motherhood are sufficient to make up for everything, but if you ask me, I’m desperately in need of some pampering and something wrapped up in a bow.

I’m expecting to wake up at 11 am to a sumptuous breakfast in bed and a little blue box with something sparkly inside. Tru will be all fed, changed and ready for his morning nap. After getting smothered with hugs and kisses, I’ll be whisked off for a manicure and a massage, followed by a relaxing bath of goat’s milk.

No diapers, no laundry, no food-slinging and certainly no screaming or whining.

Even then, it’s hardly a fair exchange. A day off to relax at a spa and some diamonds is not fair trade for 364 days of hair-pulling and hemorrhoids. But I’ll take it because it says “you deserve it cos are the most amazing human being on the face of this earth”.

Having recently been admitted to the elite club reserved only for the brave souls who dared to venture into the world of motherhood, it feels different being on the other side, as it were. Like most experiences, you need to be in it to fully comprehend what it really means. I used to hear moms talk about all their mothery stuff and I can try to look sympathetic, but it doesn’t really sink in.

But now, I GET IT. They can talk about 6-hour screaming fits and I totally understand. When Tru was sick and couldn’t fall asleep, I was holding him for 6 hours straight till I was sure my arms weren’t there anymore. I hear about nappy rash and projectile vomiting and I’ve literally been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, took the photo.

It’s like how doctors have their Hippocratic Oath. Mothers also have a code of conduct that they swear to keep the moment the kid pops. In summary, it goes like this. “I shall henceforth cease to exist as a free-spirited individual and place my kids over and above my own needs for the next 18 years. In short, I will become Mother Teresa.”

Only on Mother’s Day, we get a moment of brief respite. To sit back and bask in the adoration and gratitude. So to all the mothers out there, MILK IT FOR ALL IT’S WORTH because it’s over all too soon. Savor every moment and have a brilliant day.

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milestones & musings

My First 1,000 views!

March 11, 2009

Just like that, my excuse for a blog has hit 1,000 views. I suppose in the big league of blogs, it’s just a drop in the ocean. But still, a drop nonetheless.

I dare say, I’m thoroughly surprised.

I’m surprised that my life as a mother is compelling enough to generate such interest. When you’re the one living it, it seems terribly mundane and inconsequential. Then again, it’s not me you’re here for, is it? That’s fine, I’ve long since gotten used to having my thunder stolen, and by a mere infant, no less.

I’m surprised at how much I’ve enjoyed writing this past month. It’s been a long time since I put my thoughts on paper (or mac) and it’s awfully therapeutic. I almost forgot how much I love writing. Each entry captures a little piece of my heart and soul, and it makes me feel alive.

I’m surprised at where life has gotten me to. Just a couple of years ago, I would never have thought that I’d be a stay-home mom with two kids. I had my life all planned out; I’d have a fancypants job and perfect hair (as opposed to my psychotic-asylum-escapee-hair), jet-setting all over the world.

Most of all, I’m surprised at how awesome being a mother is. Listening to other moms talk about it and watching shows about moms just don’t do it justice. I thought I was making a big sacrifice, but I couldn’t have been more mistaken.

Just the other day, the husband asked a very tough question. “Would you rather have Tru or a million dollars?”

The martyr in me wants to say that I answered without hesitation. But the mom in me thought of all the bills and all the spa sessions and shopping sprees.

“Can I have both?” came my wisecrack reply.

But honestly, I’d take Tru a million times over. And that’s the truth.

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motherhood

A Crapload of Lessons

March 2, 2009

My nine-month-old boy drew a painting on the floor today, albeit a crappy one (no, literally, it was drawn entirely out of crap). It was quite a masterpiece, really. Other kids draw with crayons, but mine prefers a more organic alternative.

Lesson 1. Do not leave crap lying around

You’d think I know this by now, considering the number of times my mom has told me, ” Don’t leave your crap lying around”. Now, if I just listened to my mom, I would not be scraping crap off my hardwood floor.

We were already running late, and I was scrambling to get my little Picasso all changed and ready. I didn’t think much about it at that time, and I just left his soiled diaper on the floor, meaning to throw it after I got myself ready. Somehow, in the 10 minutes I took to bathe and change, Tru managed to unwrap the diaper, dig out a whole load of crap and smear it all over the bedroom floor.

Lesson 2. Boys are drawn to crap (hence, refer to lesson 1)

This lesson into the male psyche is not just meant for mothers. As long as you are in regular contact with a boy/man/dude/guy, you’d do well to remember this. After some extensive research, I’ve come to the conclusion that men are naturally drawn to crap and its variants (faeces, boogers, ear wax). I suspect it’s the texture, or their unusually high tolerance for funky odors, or simply their primal masculine instinct.

I haven’t heard of a girl playing with poop before, but plenty of boys have valiantly braved the way into the wonderful world of crap. I have a friend whose son ate dog droppings, another one who meticulously covered his cot with his own droppings, and yet another who dissected someone else’s droppings in the name of science, to find out what it was made of.

And if you pay enough attention, you’ll probably notice male counterparts rolling up their boogers and flicking it or picking at dirt from between their toes and playing with it. Some things don’t change.

Lesson 3. Learn to laugh at crap

So, back to the story. I stood in awe at the work of art that was laid before me for a whole minute before I knew how to react. I could either shriek and throw a hissy fit (tempting as it seemed), or throw my head back and laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I chose the latter, mostly because it was far less likely to give me hemorrhoids, and because I knew that if I didn’t learn to laugh, I’d probably come to resent these little moments which make motherhood the lovely adventure that it is.

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