Happy Mothers Day

I remember reading Oscar Wilde saying ‘All women end up becoming like their mothers – it is their tragedy; and no man does – that is his’. I can’t comment on the man part, but if someone told me during my growing years that I would end up like my mother, I would have scoffed.

I grew up wanting to be as unlike my mother as possible .Those days I felt everything about my mother was either too much or too little – too much love, too much control, too little freedom, and so on. The onset of adulthood left little time to think about mom – grappling with career choices, managing the widening circle of friends, and the ponderous thoughts of choosing a life partner. But mom continued her relentless micro management of my life – ‘your hair was better when I did the washing’ or ‘your clothes are not appropriate for this occasion or that’ or ‘if you eat like this, you will not be strong enough to bear kids and raise them’.

Marriage happened and with marriage came new relationships and new responsibilities. Yes! This could be the turning point, I thought, where mom lets go of her iron grip. I was after all in safe hands now as she herself admitted – (It baffled me, how she’d rather trust new son-in-law than old daughter).

But habits die hard – my marital status didn’t deter her! She was now constantly coaching me on how handle to each new relationship, especially the ‘other woman’, also known as mother in law. To be honest, I found it easier to handle new mother in law than the old mother.

Was it just my mom or was there some underlying behavioural pattern to all mothers? I simply had to find out, so over a quickly put together crib session cum lunch with gal pals, I discovered that it was indeed a universal phenomenon – moms had to control and daughters had to rebel against control, and they keep getting drawn towards each other for more of the same.

Time took me to the next stage in my life cycle - motherhood. Please note, no amount of reading up or pre-natal classes prepares one enough for the first mind numbing wails of the new born, the first hiccup, the first signs of colic, the first vaccination....the list is endless. I noticed my wall of strength who vowed in the presence of god almighty to stay by my side in sickness and in health and in good times and in bad, was fainting and crumbling outside the delivery room when I most needed him; he refused to hold the baby for the first three months for fear of hurting her.

Suddenly I needed mom. I could think of no one better to turn to but her. Mom’s word is gospel now. I follow her instructions to the t, however archaic they may seem in comparison to the numerous fancy books on childcare I have read in the past 9 months. I bathe, feed, medicate, and even eat as she instructs, all in the interest of the baby’s well being. I exchange notes with her on how she handled my own infant days, what thoughts and emotions went through her then, what dreams she had for me and so many other things that I hadn’t bothered finding out all these years.

As my child grows, I find my dependence on mom only increasing. I start looking forward to her visits more than ever, venting my anxieties, frustrations and fears within minutes of her arrival. The husband points out gently that I have become everything I have always accused my mother of being - hyperactive, paranoid, worrisome and controlling. I shrugged – what would someone without a uterus know about how to raise a child.

Pondering later, I take what husband says as a compliment - if I turn out to be half the mother to my daughter as my mother was to me, I will have achieved something. I feel (with all due respect to Oscar Wilde) it is every woman’s tragedy if, in fact, she DOES NOT end up becoming like her mother.

Happy mother’s day to all the mothers I know.