I was guest blogging over at Mum in the Making, one of those interesting mom blogs that constantly inspire me to never give up in motherhood. She was hosting "A Month of Motherhood" separately in July and September. A group of moms shared their stories and, somehow, I signed up for it.
It took me a while to kick start the writing, surprisingly it given me a chance to have a deep look inside me, as a mother. When I thought I was done and submitted to Jus, those words bugged me that I should re-phrase the sentences here and there or I needed to add clarity here and there. The published version was the third submission, and actually countless of revision.
I hope you enjoy to read something about me, something I wrote wholeheartedly.
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Being a mother for coming to seven years, I realize that other parts of me are diminishing. I mean the crazy part of me, the adventurous part of me. I tend to think twice or thrice to an invitation, and say yes. I would often picture my girls in my mind if I have to consider any offer or move. Dreams that I used to have, are now far away, till I've forgotten what they were exactly. My plate as a mother is full, until zealousness decided to leave me alone with the children.
In retrospect, my transition to motherhood was sudden. It was massive, very massive. And critical too. It was C-section and the baby was pre-term. It was heart-breaking to see the little survivor lying in the incubator, attached to tubes and wires, watched over by a monitor that constantly flashed and bleeped. I was not expecting to take the roles and responsibilities as a mother with guilt, but I did. I took an unusual path to begin my motherhood journey. It came to my mind once that if my mum can do it (motherhood), I can too! Similarly and differently.
I became a kangaroo and a cow to the little one very quickly! I surfed the internet for answers to why my baby was in such a critical condition, I struggled through medical terminologies. I was told to look after my baby full time and I did. I became a radical by becoming a mother, remember the guilt? I would go insane for her skipping the afternoon nap, being fussy at food, or when someone condemned how I mothered my child.
The little survivor survived, growing, behaving like any other normal child, driving me up the wall. Of course, in any circumstance, I am thankful. She is one great survivor. She gave me a whole lot of courage to go for another pregnancy and give her a sibling, a full-term baby, who is giving me another set of awesomeness. I don’t call the younger sister Little Bomber for nothing.
It is interesting to look back, all the way back, to where I started my journey of motherhood. Both my girls are just fabulous for taking me along the ride of motherhood. It is a long journey with a few life-altering moments, and full of surprises:
:: I stretch my brain cells, to be persuasive enough to ask my child to open her mouth to eat one more spoonful of food and another, and another and one more. Sometimes, I’m able to strategically distract a wild kid in public, without embarrassing myself. Sometimes, I think I am a genius to avoid war (between the child and I)!
:: I multitask: I eat peanut-butter sandwiches for breakfast, analysing a set of statistics in my working cubicle. Simultaneously, I call the school to confirm the upcoming excursion which my daughter had offered her mum as one of the parent volunteers. I produced a very happy morning.
:: I keep cooking really simple. I hunt for simple recipes that can stay in my brain for long. I can spontaneously, instantly cook, if my husband suddenly tells me for some reason, our plans to dine-out has to be cancelled. I am versatile!
:: I have an invisible book-keeper, for recording most rules, promises, punishments and rewards. This also comes with lots of bargains that make sense and are deemed acceptable to a seven-year-old girl or a two-year-old. The task of book-keeping is daunting, to be honest. Repetitive conversations like “MacDonalds for dinner tonight?” “Nope, we just went there three days ago. We can only go there at least once a week, remember?” “Then, how about KFC?” I think she wishes that her mom has short-term memory, so that she could eat her favourite French fries as frequently as possible.
:: I’m an unintentional stirrer to my second child’s temperament. “No” is not acceptable to her, but she gives us “No” all the time, except “Mommy”, which is an equation to “Drop everything and stick to me!” Sometimes, I wonder if it is karma, because I was rebellious and didn’t appreciate my mum.
:: I don’t like to be a mediator, but I have to be one. To suppress murderous feelings of one being victim and the other being the “aggressor”. For being fair and square in most cases of giving food, new clothes and toys, hugs and kisses, time and attention spent on both my girls.
:: For the past nine months, I smelt like a walking, opened bottle of dishwashing detergent, or sometime bleach. We have decommissioned the service of a part-time cleaner. I have been doing the mopping, washing, rubbing, folding and changing. SC, my husband, does the vacuuming and decluttering occasionally. We have just realized that home chores are forever an unfinished task, and I've finally decided to out-source.
:: Sometime, I act like a mad dog woman, barking nagging at the television, at poor marks, at ignorance, at terrible messes, at the innocent husband. I miss the days when I was a kangaroo and a cow.
:: Not to mention, I’m a fierce kicker to SC at night. I punch him occasionally. Nope, he doesn’t slap me. He knows pretty well that, I am fighting for more sleep.
I do have a number ten for the list, even number eleven and twelve. After all, it is a long journey and mine has just begun. The truth is, motherhood brings out the curious side of me, the kiasu side of me, the positive side and the toughness in me. It brings me to wonderful people in mommyland. It probably will bring me back to my dream. I don’t know where my journey will lead. I've stopped expecting, I've stopped comparing. I look at the now, I try to listen carefully to my girls, and I realize that they are the most important things in the whole world to me.
“The journey of motherhood taught me very well that we are on our own journey. We’re facing our awesome challenges and taking risks that are just as breathtaking. …The kids are with us just one time around and then they’re out there…” by Monika Deol, one of the mothers who shared her story in Between Interruptions .
I can’t agree more.
