Happy Mother's Days

I don't know when I noticed it, but at one point in my life I realised how my mother always served us first - chose the ugliest fried egg, the smallest piece of chicken, the scrappiest slice of bread.

At one point in my life I tried to stop her from doing that, instead offering up my share of a chocolate or an extra bite of my chowmein, thinking, hey, I'm so grown up and mature now, being selfless and all that!

Now that I have Zain and mind you, he's just a year old, my mother has four of us (oldest being in his 40s!), I realise how I can never repay my mother for everything she gave up for us, most of which we never even noticed or acknowledged. Our happiness, our comfort, our needs. It  was, and is, always me and my siblings before her ownself.

I have never doubted the strength of women and as I grow older, I see more clearly than ever that women are stronger and more amazing than the world cares to let on.  And to some extent, that's okay.  If every selfless act of ours was applauded, nothing would get done because everybody would just be clapping all the time.

I think the most beautiful and difficult thing about motherhood is how selfless you have to be.  

To constantly (at least 95% of the time) put another (in many cases 2, 3 or more!) human before you. 

From sacrificing your sleep and stumbling in the dark at 3 am to comfort a crying toddler, to holding your pee till your bladder starts to wail in anguish because your baby is taking that long to nap, to cleaning up eggy crumbs from the kitchen floor every day because your little boy likes to tell you he's done with food by flinging his bowl down.

From coffee gone cold to 5 minute showers cut down to 2 minutes because of a sudden baby meltdown ... I can only imagine as time goes on and toddlers become children and then adults with more emotional and physical demands, how much more of our self we have to give.

I never thought while growing up that my mum might actually have her own likes and dislikes, things she would rather be doing than:

Ironing my clothes,

Picking me up from a friend's house,

Placing cold compresses on my forehead to relieve a fever at 3 am,

Removing empty shower gel bottles from my bathroom,

Listening to my rants and breakdowns,

Telling me off for things she didn't want me to do and ignoring the constant eye rolling,

Cooking my favourite meals,

Staying up all night to get a message from me to say I'm fine, I've arrived in xyz country.


The list is 33.5 years long and continues to grow.

Now I get it. 

Now, sometimes, when I get the time, I think, oh man, my mom is even more amazing than I had ever imagined.

Now, when I watch a cup of tea get cold while I walk a little tyrant around the house holding his chubby hand, now when I look at the clock in the morning and think of how comfortable my bed is yet there is a little boy waiting in his cot. Now when everything is about our child, from when we go out to dinner to where we go for holiday to what we say to each other when angry.

The beautiful thing about motherhood is that many times (not always, please, we're mums not saints!) we don't mind it. 

In fact, many times we love it. 

Love the fact that there is a cheeky monkey sitting in the dark at 6.30 am in his cot waiting to grin and clap when I go and pick him up, love the fact that I get to cuddle a chubby kissable boy while sharing the cookie I had initially planned to eat by myself, love how he goes crazy toddling in the park or exploring a new baby-safe AirBnb, or stares me in the eye and slowly puts crayons in his mouth.  

I suppose when it comes down to it, our children are bits of our selves - maybe and hopefully the best bits - and so when we put them before our own immediate needs, it feels as if we're doing what we are naturally supposed to.

It would take a hundred thousand Mother's Days to thank my mum for what she has done for me.  In some ways, I think I can repay her by being half as incredible and loving and patient and selfless as she is, with Zain. 

May I be the best I can, for as much of the time as possible, for this little piece of me that toddles about and grins like a naughty squirrel while chucking toys all over the place. 

And may my mum always know how much she means to me.




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