In Continuum.

It's easy to be a mother, it really is. I say that because all you have to do is to be pregnant, and the title of being a mother automatically comes to you even if you don't want it. It is, however, very difficult to be a parent, which is slightly different from being a mother. Being a mother feels more like a natural status that you gain once you bear a child, you know, but being a parent is something you work hard at to become. Being a mother almost seems biological in nature, or like a medical condition. It's the same as telling your doctor that you have a severe case of stomach flu, and the same goes for being a mother. When you carry a child, whether or not it is voluntary or involuntary, you are experiencing the case of "being a mother", like the medical condition. Like I said, it really is not that difficult to be a mother, or a father for that matter. But being a parent, that's where the trick is for the most part. This isn't about wordplay here, but about how difficult it is to be a good parent to your children. I am not a parent, or a father, and I do not wish to be any of those at this point in time. It's just something I thought about over the weekend, especially with Mother's Day looming around the corner for the most part. I started thinking about the role of my mother as a parent, and her role in my life in general. I see her more as a parent rather than a mother, if you get what I mean.

My mother grew up in the rural parts of Taipei, or at least it was still considered rural back in the fifties. It was the kind of place where most people would consider to be rural and somewhat dangerous, considering the amount of gang fights that my mother has spoken of. You wouldn't be able to tell from the amount of changes the landscape has experienced over the years, but that place used to consist of large expenses of farmlands as far as the eyes can see. My grandparents used to have grape trees in the backyards, and the whole village would be surrounded by them. It was a tightly knit community, with everything being shared amongst one another. My mother's house was the only house on the street with television, and everybody would flock to her place when there was a baseball match or some kind of event happening on the television. Being one of the seven children at home, every child grew up to be independent and slightly frightful of the dictatorial father. My mother grew up amidst the shadows of my grandfather, whose temper got to the better of him most of the time. He wielded absolute power at home, and maintained many rules for the children because he was brought up under a strict Japanese education system.

But my mother's mother, my grandmother, was always the balancing force on the other end of the spectrum. I don't remember much about my grandfather because he died when I was at a very young age. My grandmother, however, was always the kind old lady who'd always be smiling. My image of her is always the one of her sitting on a stool next to the kitchen, smiling happily as we bursted through her front door. I wonder if that image is anywhere close to my mother's image of her, but the point is that she has always been the comfort zone for my mother back in those days. She'd be the calm to my grandfather's rage, and my mother took a lot of that personality from her. She grew up that way, sandwiched between two opposing forces, having to fend herself for the most part and helping out with the business that the family was running at that time. My mother used to tell me that because there were so many children at home, nobody would notice that you are sick or injured unless you bring it up. Then, of course, you'd get a scolding from the parents because you were too stupid too take care of yourself, or too careless. Most of the time, it was both, and that is how my mother grew up to be independent for the most part.

I remember my mother telling me about the time when a typhoon swept across Taiwan, and how she was deathly afraid of the door that led to the balcony that'd open and close because of the winds. She overcame those fears in childhood, which is why she'd always be the one waking up in the middle of the night, alongside myself, to close the windows when a storm comes in. Then there was that other time when she mentioned about gang fights in the alley in front of her house, where gangsters would be wearing clogs and carrying samurai swords, and they'd slash at each other and cause a blood bath in front of her home. The floods would come every now and then, and the children would automatically be turned into child labor as everybody would help in carrying the items of the house to higher grounds. But nobody complained, everybody complied. There was a kind of system in the house and everybody obeyed. There was the overlord, after all, who kept a watchful eye over the whole house for the most part. But my mother never quivered under such a system, because of how her mother treated her in times like that. You know, that motherly touch, it's quite a magic wand.

I think our mothers have a big part to play in our lives, the kind who also play the part of a good parent anyway. Mine has, and she is the first woman that I run to when I have problems. It's not that I do not try to overcome them on my own, but there are emotional aspects of things that I'd prefer to talk things out with her. Just letting her know, sometimes, is comforting enough to me for some reason. She is the kind of woman who doesn't ask for a lot, and the kind of mother that only wants you to try your very best at something. She is the kind of woman that highlights sentences and paragraphs in the books that she reads, and leaves comments at the end of it when she finds them to be particularly meaningful. She is a woman with not too many things to say, but always hitting the nail right on the head when she needs to say it. I think a lot of her is in me, if you know what I mean, in terms of personality, you know. I mean, I give a lot of credit to her because she has always been there, and I say the words "been there" with all the heart, because it means a lot to me, or anybody who has ever needed somebody to be there, you know.

So anyway, I was reading an article about the recent controversy with the whole AWARE organization and sex education thing in Singapore. You know, the whole debate about how the sex education guide as proposed by the organization categorized homosexuality as being a "neutral" subject, which seems to push the boundaries of the envelope just a little bit amongst the parents. Then there was the whole debate about nature versus nurture in terms of homosexuality, and whether or not we should embrace the whole idea of homosexuality as something people are born with. One of the argument point was an example about mothers and how, although nature plays a part in all our personalities, mothers can do a lot to guide the child in the right direction. I'm not saying that fathers around the world can't do the same, nor do I think that homosexuality is anything wrong and needs guidance. All I am saying is that I agree that mothers play a big part in all our lives, you know, in guiding us in the right direction most of the time. There are screwed up mothers out there, no doubts about that. There are irresponsible mothers, stupid mothers, or mothers who just cannot care less. But for the most part, mothers instill in us what we cannot learn from the rest of the world.

Going back to my mother, my mother has elected not to celebrate Mother's Day. The reason being, she claimed, is because there'd be too many people out in town and it'd be troublesome to make the trip down. My sister opted to pay the bill, but she'd still rather stay at home and hang out instead of doing anything else. In fact, my mother isn't the kind of person who likes presents, or surprises, or the kind of person who takes anniversaries or birthdays very seriously. There are times when I don't understand why, but something Neptina said perhaps explains the situation the best. She believes that you don't need to have a special day to be nice to the special someone, and it's kind of like how she and I don't necessarily celebrate anniversaries or whatever. We don't buy little gifts or write little notes just because a birthday is coming, or an anniversary is pulling up around the corner. We do the things because we feel like it, and that's kind of how my mother sees things I guess. She is a simple woman who does not ask for a lot, and it's amazing the way she holds everyone in the family up in more ways than one.

Of course, a lot of people around the world are going to be writing blog entries like that. You know, people raving about their mothers and how great they are, kind of like what I have went through for the past couple of paragraphs. I'm not saying that my mother is better than your mother, and I'm sure you are not saying that yours is better than mine. I just think that my mother is great, and she is a great human being. It's hard to put into words at times, the kind of effects she has had in my life. One thing is for sure, though, is how the effects would be passed on to my children, because this was how I was brought up, and this is me. And it is all thanks to my wonderful mother who has always been there, even when I don't necessarily need her to be around. It's like a reminder that says "just so you know, I'm just around the corner", that kind of comfort that makes me all warm and fuzzy sometimes. Oh mother, you are awesome.