A few years ago when Mother’s Day
swung, I knew there something that I had to do, but for the life of me, I
couldn’t remember what. It was on a Friday and despite the huge Mother’s Day
signage in the now closed Uchumi and the adverts in New Vision, I still didn’t cotton on. Two days later on Sunday,
when I saw Mothers all glammed up, again it didn’t click. I just presumed they
were glammed up to go see Pastor at church.
Today is Mum’s Day, and without
Google guidance, my interpretation of it is: To give back to Mother for
carrying us for nine months and bringing us into this world, feeding us,
nursing us better when we tumbled, clothing us and seeing us off to school on
our first day and so forth.
Mum has also stood by us even
when we have gone astray. They have defended us and will swear to Cop when
there has been need to bail us out of trouble that: “No my son/daughter can’t
have done that!” So yes, there is a need for them to be recognised and to be
treated to lunch or dinner at some fancy restaurant. It’s something that I have
been doing since I left home except for last year – and for two reasons - I
forgot plus there was a spot of ‘paying’ heavily.
This year, had it not been for Penny,
the chief sub at Sunday Vision, who was
adamant about having my column themed to Mum’s Day, it would have passed in the
blur of nursing the Saturday night hangover.
However, it’s going to be a
different type of Mum’s Day. Save for the obligatory card that was purchased
during the course of the week, Mum need not dress up today. There will be no taking
her to a fancy restaurant for lunch or dinner, nor will I be thanking her for all
that she has done for me.
Rather, I have packed three bags
- one has dirty laundry, the other has shirts with buttons missing and the last,
shirts that need ironing which, I shall cart over to her house for Mum knows
best. Mum knows how to pamper us better than we know how to pamper them, so I
am not bound to try to re-invent the wheel simply because of Mum’s Day.
While there and as she slaves
away over a hot stove the kitchen making me Sunday lunch – roast lamb, mashed
potatoes and some garden peas along with apple pie and custard for desert, I
will be sprawled out in the living room watching the Grand Pix and politely
shouting out to her to swing me a chilled TML or to come and pass me the remote
control.
And once lunch is over, I want
her to leave me be or to suggest I go up to my old room and have an undisturbed
nap while she gets on with washing my clothes, sewing on my buttons and ironing
my shirts. I also want her to leave the bedroom door slightly ajar so that she
can monitor my breathing and to also come check up on me and cover me up if the
duvet has fallen off.
At four o’clock, I want her to
wake me and by the time I get downstairs, there is a nice cup of tea waiting
along with a cake as she used to do back when I was still a kid and then leave
me be to watch cartoons or something but popping in and out to see if I want
another slice of cake. No, hang on a minute - not to ask me if I want another
slice to cake, but to simply bring another slice because that’s Mum is supposed
to do.
As the day draws to a close,
despite it still being early, perhaps she could suggest that I spend the night
because as Mum, she doesn’t want me driving at night.
Mothers would feel happy that
they spent Mum’s Day reliving the times when they pampered their children. They
will not be offended at not being taken to Serena for lunch. As long as they
were able to spend Mother’s Day pampering their children, that works for them.
Happy Mother’s Day to y’all
mothers!
Pictures: Alamy Stock, Shutter stock.com
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