For a change, I'm going to succumb to social protocol (yes, I do indulge my weaker self in a few of its whims and fancies) and base one of my posts on an upcoming tradition - the celebration of Mothers' Day. To top it off, I won't even be sarcastic about how commercialized it's become. No siree, I won't.
BAZINGA! I will!
DOUBLE BAZINGA! No, I'm kidding. I won't.
Got your attention with a catchphrase from a popular (and BRILLIANT) sitcom have I? I'm glad.
Mama. Ma. Mom. Mummy. Mum. Mommy. Ammi. Amma. Amme. Amamalu. Ambula. Mother.
A lot of m's in that line, huh? That's alright, I've (hopefully) got you to at least smile by the time you got to the end of that first line.
It's a well known fact that I'm not all that great at PDA (all you troll faces out there, yeah, I know, "you don't say"). Hugs are awkward. Kisses are just embarrassing. Holding hands is just too sweaty, to be quite plain. So, typing this post out, filled with gush-worthy ooohs and awwws is just not my cup of tea, implying that if you find this post pretty crappy from a sentimental point of view, the previous few lines should tell you why . FYI, you've just read my disclaimer to you about reading this at your own risk. I cannot guarantee a mushy post. Yet.
Mama. I don't know about yours, but mine is awesome. Awe-frikking-some. Hugs me when I'm low, shoves an over-the-counter paracetamol when she's exasperated with my attempts to let my body get over whatever sickness I have, tolerated my over-enthusiastic ups, melodramatic downs and my unimaginably obnoxious phases, stayed up with me and let me scream into her shoulder watching Paranormal Activity, wrestled with my hair for the better part of my 20 years, cleared the black from the white even when all I saw was gray, taught me how to push myself to be better only compared to what I was a day back, taught me to be independent, came for every one of my swimming classes even when I failed miserably at them, pushed me to stick to the things I loved doing even when it got exhausting because she knew I'd never forgive myself for giving up, signed answer scripts I've done horrendously at and not said a word, listened to me rant and vent, offered advice (that I didn't heed, to my unfortunate capability levels of idiocy) when she knew I needed it, woke up with me through my senior years of school to ensure I kept awake through my physics and chemistry Pradeep textbooks, talked me into giving a new city a chance even when I thought I'd hate it, took my side when everyone was pulling my leg, taught me patience, taught me how to move on and not dwell in the past, taught me how to bake, LET me bake, drilled into me that if you think you've hit rock bottom then there's nowhere to go but up, taught me how to laugh at myself, let me fiddle around with MS Paint when I was 6 years old even when she had work to do, taught me how to love, squeezed my lethargy out of me for good to a point where if I have nothing to do, I drive her mad, taught me how to listen with my eyes, gave me faith in myself when I thought I had none and finally, showed me how it's okay to get angry, but never EVER harbour resentment.
If your mother's anything like this, do add a comment with what you and your mom have in common. If you miraculously find yourself in agreement with this post (or parts of it), share it around too if you can! Maybe it'll bring a smile to your face, or even her's.
PS - Happy Birthday Mamatti. I will always love you, even when we're disagreeing and I'm steaming from the ear.
BAZINGA! I will!
DOUBLE BAZINGA! No, I'm kidding. I won't.
Got your attention with a catchphrase from a popular (and BRILLIANT) sitcom have I? I'm glad.
Mama. Ma. Mom. Mummy. Mum. Mommy. Ammi. Amma. Amme. Amamalu. Ambula. Mother.
A lot of m's in that line, huh? That's alright, I've (hopefully) got you to at least smile by the time you got to the end of that first line.
It's a well known fact that I'm not all that great at PDA (all you troll faces out there, yeah, I know, "you don't say"). Hugs are awkward. Kisses are just embarrassing. Holding hands is just too sweaty, to be quite plain. So, typing this post out, filled with gush-worthy ooohs and awwws is just not my cup of tea, implying that if you find this post pretty crappy from a sentimental point of view, the previous few lines should tell you why . FYI, you've just read my disclaimer to you about reading this at your own risk. I cannot guarantee a mushy post. Yet.
Mama. I don't know about yours, but mine is awesome. Awe-frikking-some. Hugs me when I'm low, shoves an over-the-counter paracetamol when she's exasperated with my attempts to let my body get over whatever sickness I have, tolerated my over-enthusiastic ups, melodramatic downs and my unimaginably obnoxious phases, stayed up with me and let me scream into her shoulder watching Paranormal Activity, wrestled with my hair for the better part of my 20 years, cleared the black from the white even when all I saw was gray, taught me how to push myself to be better only compared to what I was a day back, taught me to be independent, came for every one of my swimming classes even when I failed miserably at them, pushed me to stick to the things I loved doing even when it got exhausting because she knew I'd never forgive myself for giving up, signed answer scripts I've done horrendously at and not said a word, listened to me rant and vent, offered advice (that I didn't heed, to my unfortunate capability levels of idiocy) when she knew I needed it, woke up with me through my senior years of school to ensure I kept awake through my physics and chemistry Pradeep textbooks, talked me into giving a new city a chance even when I thought I'd hate it, took my side when everyone was pulling my leg, taught me patience, taught me how to move on and not dwell in the past, taught me how to bake, LET me bake, drilled into me that if you think you've hit rock bottom then there's nowhere to go but up, taught me how to laugh at myself, let me fiddle around with MS Paint when I was 6 years old even when she had work to do, taught me how to love, squeezed my lethargy out of me for good to a point where if I have nothing to do, I drive her mad, taught me how to listen with my eyes, gave me faith in myself when I thought I had none and finally, showed me how it's okay to get angry, but never EVER harbour resentment.
If your mother's anything like this, do add a comment with what you and your mom have in common. If you miraculously find yourself in agreement with this post (or parts of it), share it around too if you can! Maybe it'll bring a smile to your face, or even her's.
PS - Happy Birthday Mamatti. I will always love you, even when we're disagreeing and I'm steaming from the ear.
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