She’d have dark brown hair and eyes, have a big forehead and nose probably, and she’d speak in fluent English. Have to watch out for allergies too. It runs in the family. I don’t think that girl would know how to speak Filipino till she’s in the first grade. She’d be a naughty little girl, but she’d be a darling. A darling little beauty. That’s what she’d be like. I’d like to call her Haven.
No, I’m not pregnant mind you. It’s just something that’s been getting to me these days. This is about my mother and I, so this might get a little bit personal.
My mother was raised in a strict family in strict times. Her mother (my grandmother) was of Spanish blood and was raised in a Spanish family. Very strict indeed.
She is the eldest of four. She didn’t have time for extracurricular activities in school because she was taking care of her siblings and studying very hard. My mother graduated with honors, Cum Laude if I could remember correctly. She only ever sucked at math.
She wanted to be a doctor or some sort of designer. Only she couldn’t cause she was afraid of blood and her parents didn’t think it was a good course respectively. I think she took Business Administration. It didn’t make her too happy, but it made her a living.
In short, she was successful and very very beautiful. According to my dad, she was the most beautiful in their batch aside from one of her good friends. My mother was the whole package.
She got married on January of 1994, the same year when I was conceived. I was born on November that year, a red, overweight, flat-nosed, ten-pound baby. But she loved me anyway.
I don’t think my parents raised me half as strict as their own parents did. They blamed it on the present. It’s really nice though, knowing that you ended up a pretty good person even after all the crap I’ve been through, and most of said crap being my fault. My mother didn’t have to go through that kind of stuff. She was better than me period. And I’m not being mean or sarcastic about it. I really do mean it. It made me think really.
I was almost sure she’d hate me by now. Only, she doesn’t.
She’s my mother.
She stuck by me through counseling and all. It really is something to be thankful for.
I just usually get the feeling that she’s irked by what I do. Whatever the hell it is I do. And I can’t blame her.
Lately, it’s been getting worse. A lot worse, and I don’t know how to deal with it or if I want to deal with it. I am so afraid to just talk to her.
And that If you become a parent business makes me wanna not have a kid anymore. I might go wrong somewhere and mess up my child’s brain.
My mom never messed up mine. She brought me up right. That’s why when I mess up, I really mess up.
I feel like her problem. That’s all.
March 4, 2010 at 2:03 pm |
I like this.
“My mom never messed up mine. She brought me up right. That’s why when I mess up, I really mess up.” That totally made sense to me.