“Good morning, how is the big boy doing this morning?”
Me, thinking aloud, “Huuh, on my cellphone, this is the treatment i get? No asking how I, the mother of the big boy is doing?”
“Hai soka uena, ke etsa’ng ka uena”?….literally meaning, “get away, what use are you to me”?
Those were the sweet, kind and loving words exchanged between mother and daughter earlier today.My mother and I have always been on super good terms to say the least, well, except for the days in my childhood when I wished she wasn’t my mother.Those days when she would whip the crap out of me for doing some stupid thing or other (of which there was plenty), back in the day when whipping your own child was Aokay. In fact, the most absolute normal thing to do, to instill some discipine in this little scoundrel, when talking had failed. When disciplining your child didn’t call for the justice and children’s rights court to convene hastily at the Hague #Rollseyes#.
As I was saying, my mother and I’s relationship
has had always been cordial and loving. All that seemed to change from the moment I announced to her that I was 6 weeks into incubating the little seed growing inside me.She kind of became apathetic towards me, and started directing all her love and attention towards my tummy. I reaped the benefits of course,as she used to buy me dried fruits, popcorn (my love), fruit juices, all cravings good, emphasising that they were not for me, but for the benefit of the foetus.Huh?
Now that I do not get to indulge in the treats she used to feed MY seed through me, despite MY rather loud protests that “the boy will still get the benefits of the food through breastmilk”. I am nonetheless spared from making endless and expensive trips to the shops to buy baby clothes as granny is always “inadvertently” ready to buy something cute or warm for her little man.Gone are the days when I, the only child used to be showered with a spur of the moment purchase of a scarf or a cute little dress.The little old lady is totally engrossed with the 3.5 toothed man.
I never really thought I would understand,when my parents, mostly my mother, would utter words like, “you are still young my child, one day when you are a parent,you will understand”.
Yip, that train is here, it has finally arrived and I can now say, “I understand mom”. I understand, that I will never understand the intricate,inexplicable amount of love I have for the boy, or the deep seated fears, anxiety I have of grooming him to be a wonderful and God fearing human being.
What shocks me is the love and pure joy I see on my mother’s face when she sees or talks about the boy, worse the pain etched in her voice whenever she cannot be with him. She is my mother, she still loves me of course, and I am very happy there is someone else who loves my son unconditionally and wholeheartedly, outside of his daddy and myself.
I think I would first have to be a granny, to test-drive the capacity, my capacity for that much love for a grandchild, but hey, I’m not in a hurry.