About a Mother

Each time I hear Mother is coming for a visit, my insides churn faster than a tornado. And that’s my mother I am talking about and not even his mother.

I would be on auto-mode. Every cleaning chemical that promises a spic and span finishing will make their way into our home. The vacuum cleaner will be very busy. The rags will be out. The dust and dirt attacked. The fridge will be cleaned till even probably the ants can see their reflections on it. The kitchen will be dealt with severely, living no traces of unwanted food/garbage/sauce stains. The guest room will be smelling like spring.

But I love her visits. She brings presents– her presence and presents from back home. And of course, each time she visits, ( which is not very often ) our house breathes in ultra cleanliness.

I’ve been trying to figure why I go on a cleaning frenzy each time she is coming. I came up with a list. Is it because she :

  1. is Martha Stewart reincarnated?
  2. challenged me before I got married with the same dialogue most Malay mothers go yakking ‘ perangai ( malas ) kalau tak ubah nanti sampai ke kawin!!!’ and all I want to do is prove her wrong?
  3. set a standard of cleanliness so high in her own home that I became under pressure to meet up to her standards?

Or all of the above?

As I am typing this down, the husband is now commenting on how each time Mother comes, I become so stressed up and start behaving in an auto mode manner. And he has since begun on one of the Bruders Grimm stories. He does that each time to ease a tensed situation. Today’s story is on some elf and a little girl and a knife. And I think it’s crappy. Husband, can I have some stories from the Tok Selampit collection for a change? Please?

Ok I am definitely stressed up.


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