For Ages Now, and Beyond – My Mom’s Magic

This is a long overdue blog. It technically should have been my very first post, But I took long enough. Not anymore. Its time I give my mom the tribute she deserves. This shall be my last post for 2015 πŸ˜‰

I have always been the ‘prodigal child’. Also the bad tempered, ill mannered, unapologetically arrogant daughter. Disobedient. Loud mouth. Adamant. Cry baby. Impatient. Almost every ‘foul’ adjective you can think of, applies to me.

And then, there is my mother. She is a super woman. Not because she is my mum, (I mean, of course she has to be one, to put up with me, for starters) but because of the woman she is.

Life hasn’t been easy on her, or kind. I wouldn’t probably have half the strength/patience/courage to face all that she has, and still remain silent, keeping the family together. Yet, she is one of the most optimistic persons I have known all my life.

She has been the rock of support whenever I was broken, and continues to be. I was not the good girl at all ( I presume I am much better now πŸ˜› ). As a kid, I was notorious. Selfish. I used to lie a lot, for even the silliest of reasons. I used to be pathetic at studies, and had it not been for her, I wouldn’t have reached anywhere in life.

But she never ever showed/shared her disappointment to me. Ever. Even when I failed in mathematics in class VII, or when my teachers told me off and complained to her for something that I am really ashamed of, till date, or when my schoolmates complained to her about my mischief. Or the umpteen number of times when she had to look down in front of many people for my sake. I would have cringed in embarrassment had I been in her place. But she bore it all with supreme dignity and patience. And yet she never, ever, vented out her ire on me. All that she did was, instill faith in me. To keep going. She corrected me with a perseverance I didn’t know, existed. And she put up with all my bawling with a smile. She gave me the freedom to think, experiment and act. She continues to do that, and will do so forever πŸ™‚

She is probably the most balanced person I have ever met. She doesn’t normally let anything affect her too much. Yet, that didn’t stop her from beaming ear to ear when I topped my department in college.

She is the first person to whom I share everything, baring open my heart, skipping nothing. It gives her joy to be part of my life, to listen to me rambling, whilst I scarcely lend a ear to anything she says.

My resolutions always tend to become hers. Like when I resolved not to skip breakfast, and yet out of habitual laziness, still get up late in the mornings, she literally spoon-feeds every last morsel to me before I leave for work.

While I complain that I wouldn’t do any of the household chores because I’m tired back from work, she wakes up much before me in the morning, cooks, does all the chores ( we don’t have a maid to help us with the house work), makes time to pursue her hobby (her crochet patterns are worth spending every last penny in your pockets), teaches kids music ( yes, she is a music teacher too), tends to her ailing mother-in-law …. the list is endless. This includes executing the endless errands each of the family member has. She does it all with a smile plastered across her face. Without any qualms or complaints. And she goes to bed after me. Late into the night. Yet, when I come back home for dinner, ‘I’ make a face at the dining table, complaining of back pain, and not her.

She never says no. To anything I ask her. Be it preparing ladies finger every day, or picking up the juiciest of the garden huckleberries. She does it all.

She is my conscience. She is my best friend. She is my favorite shopping partner. She is MY MOTHER πŸ™‚

I am pathetic at expressing what I feel. In words, in person. And I might never be able to, at all, express what I feel to, anybody whatsoever. So I will make good this opportunity to convey this to my mum – Thanks for being who you are, to me. I can never be/become half as good as you are. I am proud of you for what you are. And I am grateful for having you in my life. I love you.

I know my mom loves me too. Yet I don’t understand one thing. Why does she always have to load “Carrots” on my plate, specially when I dine with my father? πŸ˜›

P.S. This blog is not to prove how bad I am. Or show how good my mother is. It is a medium I have used, to express what I think. πŸ™‚

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Author: Annapurani Vaidyanathan

I hoard books for a living. And read them too, when I am not sleeping. I express what I think, so my unheard feelings don't sink. I like to sing when I walk, to keep shades grey, at bay. I speak like a dork, but I don't want to drive anyone away. I write what's real, and nothing fake, so visit my blog whenever you need a break ;)

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