Something happened last night that made me realized that after almost 15 years of marriage and 4 kids I still can’t live without my mom. I can’t imagine live without her…and I fear for the day that I may not have the luxury to hear her comforting voice again.
Sophie was down with mild fever on Sunday. After a full day of medication, her fever subsided by the next day. Yesterday however, she started to become restless in the evening. After my hubby came home from work we resorted to take her for a car ride to soothe her. She finally sucked some milk and fell asleep in the car. After dinner she started crying again, this time for more than an hour non-stop. My husband, my maid and I took turn carrying her around the house. When all efforts seemed to fail, I called my mom for help. She suggested that we massage her tummy and her joints. So that was what we did – after the massage, she passed gas twice, burped once and smiled. Oh my God, if I knew it was that easy, I’d have done that earlier...hmm. This part really bits me, after 4 children I should have known better, but I didn't…why lah?
The comfort of knowing that I have my mom to turn to when I have problems really makes me feel lucky and blessed. She is always there for me to offer advice on just about everything. When I was in the States pursuing my studies, I called her every week without fail. After a good 15 minutes chat with her, I always felt like I become a happier person. When I was in labour during my first pregnancy, I wanted her to be at my side instead of my husband. I did in fact cry for her during the 11-hour labour.
This reminds me of a story about my first labour experience. I was in the States when I had my first child. After I was checked into the labour room (and was in so much pain that any husband could ever understand), I felt that the least my husband could do was recite some verses from the Quran. At least if I were to die during the labour, I’d die listening to Quranic verses whispered into my ears – that was my rationale. So every minute of the 11-hour ordeal, if I didn't see his lips moving I shouted “BACA! BACA!” and I kept shouting “BACA! BACA!” throughout the labour – I gave absolutely no mercy to the man who made me pregnant. The nurses must have wondered what the heck this woman was shouting for. My poor husband had to stay in the labour room despite not eating for 11 hours. You see, my water broke at 8am while we were still in bed. So we didn't have time for breakfast before we rushed for the hospital in absolute panic. If I couldn't eat, I won’t let him eat either. All I had was ice cubes and plenty of excruciating PAIN. He merely experienced hunger – a lot less painful compared to moi who was pushing an 8lb 2oz baby out through my petite frame. What an experience…we still laugh each time we reminisce about the day.
Now back to my subject. My mom is a typical mother, she’s loud and a superbly great cook. Cooking is her definite passion and I don’t think I could find a better cook in this world. At 63, she still operates her small catering business all on her own, and teaches Quran in her spare time. Come Hari Raya, she’ll be busy selling her famous keropok pedas, halwa maskat and kacang potong, well actually she makes and sells those all the time. She is like an energizer bunny when it comes to cooking. It's no surprise that holding a feast is like a hobby to her. She would take every opportunity to host and organize a feast - birthdays, circumcision ceremony, cukur rambut ceremony and any other occasion under the sun. In fact, she is organizing a kenduri doa selamat (thanksgiving feast) this Friday. She’s leaving for umrah with my dad, my youngest brother and my sister on 24th of April.
To me, my mom is the ‘glue’ that bonds my family together. My elder brothers, who are already in their late 40s, still come to her whenever they have problems, be it financial, marital, health and what not – everything and anything. In fact everyone in the family goes to her when we have problems. She is the sunshine that brightens our days, the joy in our lives, and the queen of our hearts. Her cheerfulness is contagious – that’s how I got my ceria attitude, it's in the gene.
I love my mom more than life itself. Mak, engkaulah ratu hatiku…
No comments:
Post a Comment