An imperfect mother

I woke up this morning at 8 o’clock to dozens of Mother’s Day text greetings. After acknowledging all of them, I got my hat and sunglasses and went up to our roof top.

The sun is biting at 8 am so I tried to stay under the shade.
Our roof deck has a view of surrounding houses. I could see neighbors’ roofs, trees, clouds, tall buildings. I also saw a jet flying in the clouds.

I greeted my mother too, in my head, and I became a little sad because she’s gone.

There were a lot more text greetings that came in while I was standing there and enjoying the morning sun.

This message touched my sensibility (emotions).

I am not a great mother. I could have been better. I tried but it didn’t happen. Somewhere along the way I got lost, I focused more on myself than on my children. I was unhappy and all I did was search for my self. I was young and and still keen on finding my own place in this world, my own misguided purpose in life.

When my daughter was in nursery at the Philippine Montessori Center, one morning while I was leaving the house for work, she asked me to call her later that afternoon. She repeated it twice or thrice and I said yes. I didn’t even bother to ask what for or what was she needed. All I knew was that her teacher, Miss Maniacup, would be coming over to the house after lunch. Cellular phones were not yet invented that time. I went to the office, and totally forgot about my daughter’s request.
I came home at almost six pm. My daughter was waiting at the door and she cried upon seeing me. She said “I told you to call me, I told you to call me, you forgot. You didn’t call me.”

I really forgot. Totally. I just didn’t know why. I was just in the office doing unimportant things and yet I totally forgot that the most important person was waiting for my call. How could I have done that? Until now that moment still hounds me. I just couldn’t forget and forgive myself for missing out on my daughter’s simple request. And worse, I didn’t remember even asking her what was it all about. That night, the next day or after that. I was just into myself.

Oyen doesn’t remember it happening. She was 5. I will never find out the reason why she wanted me to call her that afternoon. I wish she could remember. It would somehow make me feel better. I don’t want to be 75 years old and still feeling guilty about it.
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My son was running a fever that morning. He was 3. I gave him a teaspoon of Tempra (paracetamol) syrup. I left for the office without giving the yaya instruction. I stayed in the office the whole day and just totally forgot that I have a sick baby at home needing my attention.

I came home at almost 5 pm and found my son on the yaya’s lap in my daughter’s bedroom. His eyes were closed but he wasn’t sleeping. His face was all red from high fever. That was the only time I snapped out of my senses and remembered that he’s been sick since that morning.

Oyen———– “Mommy, something is wrong with shoti (younger brother)”.

I grabbed him from the yaya, removed his clothes and brought him to the bathtub. I poured a few tabo of water over his head, neck, shoulders and body. The cold water jolted him and he started crying and screaming. He stopped crying as soon as I wrapped him in a warm towel. I gave him a teaspoon of Tempra. Binihisan ko sya ng white cotton sando and white briefs. I placed him on our bed and gave him a bottle of milk. He fell asleep as soon as he finished his milk. I stayed beside him and continued putting wet bimpo on his neck, forehead, armpit, thighs, to keep the fever down.

I was such a horrible mother. I felt guilty not to go to work, and yet my children were more important than my work. I didn’t even have a boss. I was my own boss and yet I felt guilty not showing up in the office. I felt irresponsible to be absent, but on the other hand, I became the most imperfect and irresponsible parent.

My desire was to be a perfect mother and a perfect wife. I was 24 when I set these goals. I didn’t know that being a wife and a mother was not that simple. I was still growing up and searching for my own self. I needed loving and caring too just like my little children. To be a perfect person to others, one must be happy within herself. One must find first who she is and be content. Otherwise, being a wife and mother would become mere life’s chores.

Today, mothers are given importance in celebration of Mother’s Day. But are we really deserving of that? Yes, we are. Only because these children came from our wombs. But there’s more to being a great mother than giving birth, feeding, and sending them to school. One must go beyond the basic caring and giving. Mothers must fill their hearts with generosity, unconditional love and selflessness.

Happy Mother’s Day.