Mother

There is no question that my mum spoils me. I wake up during my stays with her to find breakfast laid out neatly in what appears to be a mahogany tray, complete with two glasses - one containing fresh milk, the other juice. I walk to the bathroom for a shower and I see a fresh towel, boxers, and the clothes she picked out for me to wear for the day. By the time I am done showering, I enter my room to find my bed made and a pair of socks lying on the covers.

Yes, my mum spoils me. She's also extremely protective and is suspicious of any remote harm that might possibly befall me. The metro in Shanghai she deemed too confusing for me to navigate; this despite me having survived subways in Toronto, Chicago, New York and London. She gave me a little pocket map, and went over with me at least thrice the route I should take to get to where I was going, and how to get home, interjecting her sentences with "so troublesome".

And that's only the infrastructure. She's worried too that I might get knocked down when I cross the road, or pick-pocketed as I made my way around. "Watch out for pick-pockets" or "Watch your belongings" is something she says to me at least four times a day, and when she catches me putting a wallet in my back pocket she'll frown and indicate my front pocket instead.

To my mum, her son's made of marshmallows. She calls me when I'm out and tells me that it's raining heavily. She comes out to the station, ready to meet me with an umbrella least I get wet. She's worried I would get sick, and told me in all seriousness not to share drinks with friends. She's worried I would become an alcoholic, yet opens a bottle of beer for me at home during dinner because she knows I enjoy drinking.

Yes, folks, I'm spoiled rotten. The thing is, I don't live with my mum. Since the age of 4, I've been spending an average of of three weeks with her per year, with the duration decreasing after my teenage years. As a general rule, mum seems to perceive me to be half my actual age, subtracting a couple of years for good measure.

As I was growing up, she pampered and fussed over me to no end, and as a kid growing up more or less independently, it got on my nerves. We fought at least once a year, usually because I was impatient with her coddling and demanded to have my way or for her to stop treating me like a baby. Such fights usually ended with either or both of us in tears. I can only imagine, in retrospect, the amount of anguish I must have caused her. In attempting to assert some form of masculinity and maturity, I broke her heart.

Things took a turn for the better during the Shanghai visit before my Canada exchange. She was, naturally, worried sick that I was going halfway around the world and even more worried that I intended to drive. She asked incessantly about why I had to insist on driving, and whether I knew what I was doing, whether I was going to get lost/robbed/killed/get hooked on drugs/flunk out of school .. etc. I started ignoring her and would chat happily on msn while she talked to me. She flipped, and it wasn't a pretty sight.

I looked at her and realised that I had been a selfish, immature prick and that this woman in tears was probably the one woman who loved me more than she loved herself. I apologized, immediately. I then explained that I could take care of myself and that her nagging insults my self-perceived intellect and capability. She responded by saying I would understand how a parent feels when I have kids of my own, and that she nags me to make herself feel better, to assure herself that she's doing her part to keep her kid safe and happy.

At the risk of airing dirty laundry in public, I shall let on that my mum has been carrying around an immense burden of guilt - guilt at having "abandoned" her young son and missing out on his childhood. I understand that all these over-pampering and worrying is in one part due to her innate nature to worry, but largely due to her need to compensate for lost time. To cut the long story short, I told her that it is unfortunate that she largely missed my childhood, but the fact was that she was now mother to a 23 year old and not a 4 year old and so should focus on being a good mother to the 23 year old. I, on the other hand, shall attempt as much as possible to let her do and say whatever makes her feel better without blowing my top.

Things have been going a lot smoother since then. I do admit that I still get irritated, and sometimes channel my irritation into sublime sarcasm, knowing that chances are she wouldn't get it. Most of the times though, things are good. I let her pamper me when I'm with her, let her wash my clothes however often she wish despite my firm belief that clothes that I've only slept in for a few hours are good for another night at least.

I don't flare up when she insists on carrying the heavier bags after a round of grocery shopping. Instead I point to her forearm, and mine and genially ask, "who do you think is stronger?", alternating sometimes with "you have a son, not a daughter, make use of him." I let her nag me as much as my expanded patience allows. When the limit is reached, instead of yelling, I put one arm around her and say something like "I Knowwwww, Mum.", and she replied once "Just let me say can?", to which I replied "I let you say 5 times, now's the 6th time, let me show some irritation can?". And we laugh. Yes, things are definitely getting better.

At the end of the day, I go to bed with the comforting knowledge that my mum loves me. I can't help the fact that she loses sleep worrying about whether her son will turn alcoholic, start smoking (ahem) , experiment with drugs (slight cough), or have liberal bed sharing values but I can show her - as much as I know how - that I love her.

Anyway, this post is a result of me missing my mum after a 8 days stay with her in Shanghai.

----------------
Now playing: Frank Sinatra - You'd Be So Easy To Love
via FoxyTunes