I call her Mak

Nazyh told me that I should join Master Chef because I'm such a great cook.  I thought he was cracking a joke, but he actually thinks the world of me.  It hit me again that the source of my inspiration, as I have told many, are my children.  Their unconditional love, as I have repeatedly written, is priceless and it drives me through all life's hardships.  Who else would be believe in me endlessly and tell me its okay?  I believe in my mother, too.  I think it's called the cycle of life.

Then again, I suppose it's the kind of mother we have.  I think much of who I am today, (and much to my dismay when I realized that I grew up to be just like mom), was shaped by my mother's unconditional love and still is.  They just don't make mothers like they used to, though.  I doubt I am anywhere close to the kind of mother mine was and is today.  I could make a checklist of my mother's dos and sacrifices, (setting her as my standard and benchmark to motherhood), and go down the list, I'm probably a C+.   I supposed I passed, but it's such a sad grade.

My mom's day with me as a child:


1.  Wake up extra early.
2.  Pick up sleeping child (try not to wake the poor precious), and brush her teeth.
3.  Sit her on the bowl and wait.  Clean her and strip her.
4.  Put her under the shower...only if the water is hot.  Otherwise, wipe her down (child still in between sleep mode)
5.  Dry her and put her back to bed.  Cover her under the blanket and make sure she's comfortable...now I bathe. (Child slips back into slumberland)
6.  Get ready and run up to make breakfast for child. Lay it out on the table.
7.  Go out and heat the car.
8.  Go down and get girl ready for school.  Dress her from top to toe. Brush her hair and make her real pretty.
9.  Carry child up the stairs (literally).  Put her in chair.  Feed her breakfast (child still hitting snooze button)
10. Prep the back seat of car with pillow and blanket.
11.  Put on child's socks.  
12.  Carry child into the car and tuck her in.
13.  Carry in her bags and shoes.
14.  Drive her to school.


All this time...child is kept rested.  THE CHILD WAS BRATTY ME!!!  And that was only the morning.  You'd hate me if I continue with the rest of the day, so I'll stop here.  (Note: I'm also the only child). 

My mother's birthday.

Now, that I am a mother, she wakes up early for my children, make sure they brush their teeth, bathe, poop and pee, and get dressed.  She makes them breakfast and watch us all leave home while she reads a silent prayer under her breath and bids us farewell with her blessings.  I can't make her stop!  She'd say, "...kesian Yen penat.  Mak nak tolong", (...(I feel sad) you are tired.  I want to help you).


Obviously, I am still her little precious brat...and she still wants me well rested.  Forget her fatigue...I am always going to be more important.  I had always come first!  I am thirty some now, and I am still pampered as if I was 6, (but I wish she would rest).


Unfortunately, the age old adage of mother and daughter relationship eludes no one.  My mother and I, just can't seem to agree or see eye-to-eye on many little things.  It's funny how we share the bigger picture, though.  It's getting there that's hard; all that rocky road, t-junctions and back lanes are just so hard to maneuver.  So, we have our share of arguments and shouting matches.  It's gotten better now that we're both older and I think wiser...but, we can bring out the worst from each other.

Mak with baby Nadra.

Then again, we can be the best of friends and laugh into stitches.  We'd laugh until we'd cry and barely able to verbalize any form of communication.  Those are such precious moments.  

I also remember (as a young girl) singing in the car and thinking what a lovely voice she had (my mom can't sing a note!).  I remember how I loved her cooking and anticipate her spaghetti, ayam kicap (soy chicken), roasted chicken and nasi ayam (chicken rice)...I still do.  I thought the world of her, and so I can understand where Nazyh is coming from (though I wish at times that I can be a better mom).


It's not Mother's Day, is it?  Never mind la. Everyday should be a mother's day, right?  Especially after all the years of forgetting how we'll always be their precious little baby.  I am writing because I actually DO remember that I have been blessed with a mother truly carved by the Master's hand. Perfected just for me.

Her name is Rahil. I know her better as Mak and she believes in me too.