Who are you when you were a child, a daddy’s boy/girl or a mama’s boy/girl?
Growing up as a kid, I used to see myself as a daddy’s girl. When we were still living in Metro, Papa had plenty of time to share with us, while in the background; Mama was always busy doing the chores.
I loved chasing my father then. Whenever I heard our door creaks, I knew that he is going somewhere. So when he was about to open it, wear his slippers and step outside,it was my go signal to run after him and ask if I can come with him. And his answer would always be a ‘yes,’ without any other choice.
Before he would go to work, I would plead him first to brush my hair and ponytailed it even if it turned out messed after. Then I would demand a kiss before I let him go. I was so attached to him that it was quite so hard for me dealing the next scenario that had happened.
We were about to transfer from province where one of my mother’s sister live. We were actually persuaded that’s why we left immediately. What I was thinking then was just about the excitement of seeing my cousins and experiencing a new environment. I wasn’t expecting that it was also the end of my story as a daddy’s girl.
Papa would only go home twice a month, for his work was still in the Metro. I remember myself always crying exhaustively every time he was leaving. Realizing that I wouldn’t see him for more than ten days, it really made me so gloom.
That was the time when I suddenly I realize that there still someone beside me. I looked at my mother’s face. It was as if a lightning strike me at that very moment. For all those time I never felt that she was also enduring with our set-up and that I never seen her as I seen my father.
And the daddy’s girl turned into a mama’s girl.
I wonder up until now, how Mama stood all the works at home then. Add the stress brought about by our little fighting and family problems that came here and there. We looked at her as our superwoman whom we can call anytime. That became her role after sometimes, I suppose, as she is the only guardian whom we can easily be with and talk to.
Mama, for me, is just like the other mothers. She nags whenever she finds fault to what we do (mother’s common way of discipline). She beats us with a shaft whenever we transcend to our limitations. And she makes the best food ever. I know your moms too. And I know you’ll agree to me that even if first class chefs will never win over our moms (especially when we are the judges). There’s something on their dishes that makes us famish whenever we smell it. I think mothers will always have the magic on cooking. There is an ingredient that they add-on that made it extra especial. Maybe that’s the love on knowing that their children will be the one eating what she cooked, regardless of how mainstream the dish seems to be.
But there is one thing that really make her unique among others, and that is her self-less sacrifice for her children.
The time when my eldest brother was born, she decided to give up her career and be an all-out-mom for us. From being accountant, she set aside those balance sheets and focuses more on being a mother. Whenever I asked her why, she would always say that she have chosen the greatest profession of all and that she never regretted anything from her decision. Had she not chose us would mean life without nothing to live for, as she always reiterating to me.
The day I learned that I was already a Mama’s girl sparked a realization to me. I learned that I wasn’t paying so much attention to her that much, as compared to the kind of appreciation I was giving to Papa. I’d been biased. I put blinds and didn’t see her care. I failed to see her.
But that was also the time that I was starting calling her name whenever bullies at kindergarten was approaching me. I was eyeing on her at the window of our classroom, checking if she was still there waiting until my class end. I was alarmed whenever she disappears. It was a relief then whenever I will discover later on that she was just talking to other parents. I was freaking out to the thought that she might leave me alone with faces I didn’t know.
I then started enjoying the touch of her hand on my hair and perfectly put it on braid. I loved the way she prepares my snack box and hold my hand tightly whenever we cross the street.
I simply love this woman who gave birth to me.
But there were times that I simply ignore her too. We’re all guilty of that especially when we were teens and looking for privacy, independence and stuff that are all abstract. I once shunned her away when she wanted to talk to me and never meet her eyes for quite a while for no reason at all. So stupid hormones, I guess.
And right now that I’m neither with my parents (for the sake of my studies), my mother’s memories always linger on me. Every morning, I miss smelling the fried rice she is cooking, her smile and her inevitable line ‘kain na!’ until we all sit down to eat the breakfast she prepared. I was longing to hear her say ‘bye’ whenever I go to school, the way she irons our uniforms and how she obsessively drape them in a very organize manner. Even if we’re old enough to wash our clothes, she would still insist to do so.
Despite those entire spoon feeding she usually do for us, there is one thing that I really miss on her, and that is her voice. I never feel so feeble whenever I hear her encouraging me to learn from my struggles and be a strong woman…just like her. And waking up every day without your mother is like endlessly searching for that piece that will fill that hiatus inside in me. It’s hard, but it’s one of the consequences of being independent. And so I endure.
My excitement bursts every time I go home. I do all the means of expressing my love to her: kissing and hugging her, having a long talk to her and delivering the news that I am doing well in school. That’s the least thing I can offer to her. For all the sacrifices she had done for us, making her smile, making her feel that all her hard works are being paid-off and making her feel that she is the best mother ever are just expected for us children to do.
To choose whether you are a daddy’s girl or a mama’s girl is useless, for a child should not weigh the importance of the two people who are precious to his life. They have roles that made us complete as a person, roles that define who we are at present.
And for those who are still ignoring their parents, your mom in particular, please remember persons like me who do not have always have the opportunity to be with her every day. May I remind you, that being with them is essential moments you should treasure. Learn to appreciate her. Believe me; she doesn’t much care about material gifts as compared to your rendered smile she is observing whenever you enjoy her prepared meal. So smile often when you are eating. Offer your simple gestures of love to her. Do it until we still have the very chance to do so.