IT’S Mother’s Day tomorrow, a day when many children (and adults) take the opportunity to make their mothers feel special.
When I was a child, doing small things for mum on Mother’s Day was quite simple. The easiest go-to was getting her a posy of yellow roses, her favourite.
In fact, mum was easy to please. She always beamed at anything we brought her, be it a single stalk of rose or a whole bouquet, or just a bar of chocolate.
However, when she saw that we were spending the pocket money that we had so diligently saved just to get her something on Mother’s day, she told us not to be extravagant with the gifts. She always said it was the thought that counted.
So I started to make things for her, things that she didn’t have time to make, like chocolate or cheesecake, her favourites.
I never had the courage to cook dishes that were her forte. The thought of it was just too intimidating, until I was much older when I was learning from her and aimed to impress.
We enjoyed many years of doing something special on Mother’s Day, whether it was just a visit over tea with the entire family, going out for meals or travelling together.
Little did I know that those easy days with mum would get complicated in her later years when she became unwell while my children were still small.
A BALANCING ACT
It occurred to me then that a mother is someone who multi-tasks — from a day job that blends into the one at home taking care of her spouse and children, and at some point in her life, her ageing ailing parents.
Sometimes she even takes care of other people’s children, especially friends of her children who’d come home from school to have tuition together or just hang out.
This was something my mother had been doing all her adult life. Everything suddenly fell into place and I started seeing things differently. Suddenly the tables turned and I became the one who took care of several people in my life.
I can’t really find the right words to describe it but it was like a great moment of epiphany. I was doing pretty much what my mum did at that same age.
The only difference was that mum had greater responsibilities as she took on a lot more obligations.
In what seemed like a blink of an eye, my universe centred on my family — especially my children and my parents. So many hours were spent on planning for appointments with doctors for treatment and check-up, coordinating movements with my siblings, and arranging family meet ups that my parents dearly enjoyed.
Between ferrying the children to school and their numerous activities, supervising homework, tuition, training and rehearsals, I felt that I barely had time for myself.
But make time I did because I knew for certain that if I ever became unwell, we’d really get a spanner in the works. So I tried to keep myself as healthy and strong as possible through workouts and gym.
EVERY DAY IS SPECIAL
In my mum’s final years when her health was greatly challenged by diabetes, heart problems, haemodialysis, coma and recovering from coma, every day became special and each day was spent on doing something significant.
Why would every day be special? Because mum was still with us. She hadn’t given up fighting for her life. We didn’t do anything big or spent a lot of money. We just did things that brightened up that day.
It could be a delicious cup of latte “crafted by a barista”, or a “salon day” complete with manicure and pedicure by someone who could make house calls. It could be a small array of take away sashimi or a burger, or anything she enjoyed. She could only eat small amounts anyway so quite often it was more like a taster’s platter.
I discovered the importance of involving her in the decisions we made that day — whether she wanted to go out or stay in. Sometimes she was game for a bit of adventure and we’d even go for a movie. Sometimes mum just wanted us to be around to chitchat.
On those days, I enjoyed digging out her photo albums and asking her to identify people I didn’t recognise. I’d ask her to tell stories about them and about her early years. Sometimes I could show her the same photo and a different story gets told, either from a different angle or totally unrelated — but so precious all the same.
Looking back, I’m glad I had that time with mum. Sometimes when you’re a caregiver, such moments are intense and precious because by then time is against you. When that happens, everyday becomes Mother’s Day.
Putri Juneita Johari volunteers for the Special Children Society of Ampang.
She can be reached at juneitajohari@yahoo.com.