Ode to Mothers

Zenie’s mom and her sister are here in Manila for a three-week vacation. They are staying over at our apartment during the entire duration. On their first day, you could already detect a difference in the apartment. And it has remained so eversince. The apartment’s actually clean! The floors are free of dust, the sink is not cluttered with unwashed dishes, and the garbage bags are put out regularly. And not just that, but home-cooked meals are on the table.

Yesterday we all pitched in to prepare a much-missed home-cooked meal. We bought our favorite galunggong and okra from the nearby market and Zenie’s mom transformed this into our favorite inun-unan (pinangat) and steamed okra. She also cooked some liver adobo for Cheng-Cheng, Zen’s younger sister, because the poor girl, unlike us, is tired of fish. After sitting down to eat we all rubbed our tummies and complained that we were too full. That was the yummiest meal I had lately. Yeah I know, sounds strange to you normal people, but ordinary “pang-pobre” foods like these are a rarity to us and therefore the equivalent of ambrosia to our tastebuds.

Mothers are pretty amazing. They keep the homes neat and organized and it seems that they can’t rest unless the house is put to order. Right before Zenie’s mom came over, she said she would have to clean the house because she knew that her mom would not be able to keep herself from doing so once she saw the mess, and she didn’t want that. But even if you stop your mom from doing so, it’s like she has this instinct or a built in chip that propels her to do housework!

I could relate with Zenie, because my own mom is that way too. I am actually a bit of a slob and during the times when I was still living with my parents, my bedroom would always be a mess. Though I tell my mom that I would get around to putting it in order, I never do. So plenty of times I walk into my room to find that it had been already been cleaned by my mom, making me feel guilty.

Part of the reason why I wanted to be independent was so I would be forced to do these things on my own and not rely so much on my mom. I’ve improved somewhat, but I’m still no mom-material. Perhaps this is the reason why I changed my mind about having kids. I feel as though I could never be a good mom. And to be a bad mom would probably be the worst thing you can possibly be.

Speaking of mothers, my office friend Liza has just given birth to her first baby, a healthy baby girl. We are visiting her tonight at Makati Med. Congrats, girl! You have just accomplished the essence of being a woman. But it’s just the beginning. You still have a lot to do.

Here’s a nice anecdote about the most incredible beings here on earth –> mothers. I sure miss mine.

When God was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of “overtime” when an
angel appeared and said, “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.”
And God said, “Have you read the specifications on this order? She has to be
completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts….all
replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when
she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed
love affair. And, six pairs of hands.” The angel shook her head slowly and said
“Six pairs of hands….no way.”
“It’s not the hands that are causing me problems,” said God, “It’s the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have.”
“That’s on the standard model?” asked the angel.
God nodded. “One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, ‘What are you kids doing in there?’ when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn’t but what she has to know, and of course, the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say, ‘I understand and I love you’, without so much as uttering a word.”
“You should scrap it and start over.” said the angel.
“I can’t,” said God, “I’m so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick…can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger…and can get a nine-year-old to stand under a shower.”
The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. “It’s too soft,” she sighed.
“But tough,” said God excitedly. “You cannot imagine what this mother can do or endure.”
“Can it think?” asked the angel.
“Not only think, but it can reason and compromise.” said the Creator.
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek. “There’s a leak!” she pronounced. “I told you you’re trying too put too much into this model.”
“It’s not a leak” said God “it’s a tear.”
“What’s it for?” asked the angel.
“It’s for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride.”
“You are a genius!” said the angel.
God looked somber…..”I didn’t put it there.”