I love my mom. There’s no doubt about that. But just like many modern daughters, I tend to disagree on a lot of things with my mom. I sometimes complain about her, and that often leads to a quarrel. But just the other day, instead of thinking about what there might be to complain about my mom, I decided to list down her possible complaints about me.
A big revelation dawned on me: Having me for a daughter can really be hard work.
Reason No. 1: I have allergies.
I’ll never forget our trip to Australia. We ate in this really good restaurant. They served us a dish coated with peanut sauce and I absolutely loved it. I even poured some of the sauce on my rice because it was just exquisite.
Afterwards, I had a startling discovery. I was allergic to peanuts. I couldn’t breathe and my throat started to close up. My lips began to morph. They swelled to like 10 times their size. I looked like a puffer fish all bloated up.
My family could not stop laughing. Well, I could not blame them. I, too, laughed when I looked at the mirror. But my mom panicked. She called the doctors back home and rushed to get me some allergy medicine.
I have since discovered that I am also allergic to nuts, crab, shrimp, lobster, oysters, mussels and many more. My mom took note of each one of my allergies and would always have an order of beef ready for me whenever we eat out. Every time my lips grow to mutant proportions, Mom doesn’t laugh with the rest, but instead takes out the medicine and becomes upset with me for being too reckless: “Mae, umayos ka nga!” (Which is another way of saying “I love you” in my mother’s dictionary.)
Reason No. 2: I make her listen to my music.
I like R&B and hip-hop. My iPod is filled with songs that have all the cuss words in the world for lyrics and are labeled “explicit” and “dirty.” Not only do I play this kind of music all around the house, but I make my mom go with me to concerts as well. Actually my sister Sofia and I drag her to all these shows with music blaring and people crazily jumping around. She just sits down and covers her ears or listens to her iPod patiently while my sister and I go nuts.
She came with us to watch 50 Cent, Fall Out Boy, Simple Plan, Akon… the list goes on and on. I wanted very badly to go to the Chris Brown and Rihanna concert about three years ago. She would not let me go by myself so she insisted that she come along with me. When she learned that it was a no-seating concert, she brought along her foldable chair to the concert grounds. She cleared a spot, deployed the chair and sat there while I took about a billion pictures.
I have one very cool mother.
Reason No. 3: I have this tendency to get lost.
Many summers ago, my family went on a vacation. My dad and I were jogging and he dared me to sprint. I ran. I kept running and I didn’t even notice that my dad had gone inside a restaurant. I don’t know why I didn’t stop. I was even so proud of myself because I thought I had outrun my dad.
I never realized that I had been running for quite a while and it didn’t even occur to me that it was weird I didn’t see my dad at all when I looked back. Then I heard my cousin shout out my name. When my family saw me, they all went ballistic, demanding to know where I had been. “You had us scared half to death!” they screamed. I didn’t even realize that I was lost.
But none of them could beat my mom’s reaction. When she saw me, I don’t know if she was mad or happy but she went hysterical. I could see her eyes were swollen and she told me that she had been screaming at every single security guard there. She almost called the police to go on a manhunt to search for me.
I always complain that my mom worries too much, but I realize that I give her a lot of reasons to worry. I think she still gets worried every time I go out to jog.
Reason No. 4: I ruin her diet and alter her sleeping patterns.
“School days” is another term for “war zone” in our house. I consider going to sleep at midnight early and this drives my mom crazy. She gets mad at me because I’m still studying at around two in the morning.
My mom never goes to sleep unless I do. I find this annoying most of the time, but it must be hard to follow my sleeping habits. Risking getting eyebags: now, that’s real love.
Reason No. 5: I hate shopping.
I used to always think this was a good thing. I mean, my mom gets to save a lot of money because I don’t like buying clothes. But this leaves my mom with the burden of buying me my clothes. She has to go to the stores, figure out my size, then let me try on the clothes when she gets home.
Well, I despise trying on clothes. It is torture for me. My mom will come to my room each night and plead for me to try on the clothes so she can see if they fit. I argue with her and say that I’m too tired. But then she gets furious and says that she spent the whole day looking for my clothes.
With shopping, my mom is the total opposite of me. She just loves it. She used to drag me to go along with her, but I would just mope and sit on the comfy chairs in all the stores, reading a book. Without any complaints, my mom comes along with me to the arcades, theme parks and all the crazy stuff I like to do for hours on end, but I can make just one hour of shopping torture for her because of my sulking.
Mothers are the most selfless people in the world. They do everything for their kids without their kids even saying thank you.
Reason No. 6: I hardly spend any time with my mom.
My mom gives a lot of hints but I never seem to pick up on any of them.
“Mae, I have a craving for Japanese food,” she says.
“Oh…” I mumble.
“Mae, The Social Network sounds like a good film!”
“Yeah, a lot of critics gave it good reviews,” I say.
“Really?” she asks.
“Yup.”
And that would be the end of the conversation. I don’t even remember the last time I watched a movie with my mom. I think it was about three or four years ago. If my mom can stand watching a rap concert, why can’t I invite her to a movie once in a while?
I used to think that my mom was omniscient. I thought that it was impossible for her ever to be wrong. I think this is why we complain about our parents so much. We set the bar for them so high that we get disappointed when they make the most trivial mistake. They were not born into this world to become parents right away. They started off like us. How can we expect our parents to be perfect if that perfection is so far from our own selves?
I think I have the best mom. I honestly think that if I had the power, I would not change anything about her.
She’s not perfect — but I would not exchange her for the world.
My mom calls herself a “Tiger Mom” or even a “Helicopter Mom,” because she hovers over her children all the time. Well, my mom is overprotective. She will watch all my tennis games and always insist on fetching me from my friends’ houses or wherever I am when I go out.
I could complain that my mom is a control freak, but then I realize that I would rather have a mom who cares so much about me than one who doesn’t give a hoot at all about my activities and my whereabouts.
I rarely admit it, but I need my mom by my side. I used to sleep between her and Dad because I was afraid of the shadows in my room. Whenever I would go on sleepovers, I would stay awake for a while because I would miss my mom.
During my matches, I would sometimes glance over at the bleachers and see Mom watching me and hear her cheering, “Go, Mae!” I never told her this, but her cheering boosts me up, like 100 percent.
Maybe this Mother’s Day, I might let my mom play her music for once. I might even go with her to a concert that she wants to watch, for a change.