Sure glad that you're my mum

"Hey you are looking fat. Your dad thinks so too"

No kidding. These were her exact words when I had just returned home from London.

This was quickly followed by "Hey, are you hungry? There is plenty of food in the fridge"

Some other choice quotes from my mother:

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Your face is so ugly" in reference to the one pimple residing on my chin.

"No. Stop eating. You are going to get fat!" She actually tried to wrestle the chocolate bar from me. Just so you know, I won that fight and just to be safe I quickly gobbled the remainder of that bar.

"I think that people who have tattoos have mental health problems." Her subtle way of telling me that she did not like my tattoos or Brandons. I don't have the courage to tell her that actually he has since had an additional sleeve and a chest tattoo.

But seriously though, my mama is amazing.

I have only ever known her to work all the time. When she isn't working, she would be cooking. When she isn't cooking, she would be cleaning. When she isn't cleaning, she would be doing the gardening. When she isn't doing the gardening, well... you get the picture.

I have not even mentioned the extra things that she does for our family.

Every night, she will make a separate dinner for my father and I because someone is a picky and health conscious vegetarian. She always makes a pit stop at the temple whenever she can just to buy me some of the delicious vegetarian dishes made by the monks. "What is in that? is it fried? Mum you can't trust those monks, just because it is made by monks does not mean it is prepared in a healthy way!"

She is in regular contact with a fortune teller because she is worried that someone is STILL not married and may just miss the boat because they are getting "too old and soon too ugly!". All the good ones are gone according to her friends.

Occasionally, she is required to drop everything at a moments request because someone did not organize transport home from a late night. "Mum, it's your favorite daughter, can you come pick me up?".

I can hear her bustle about in the kitchen as I think about everything that she does for me on top of her already busy schedule. She has just finished altering customer garments that are due for tomorrow and is now busy doing something else, perhaps some time to herself? I walk outside to see what she is up to.

I can only imagine how strange it would look to an outsider to see a tiny asian woman lifting, well dragging more like it, a ladder twice her size across the kitchen floor. She is doing this casually I might add, at 11 at night.

Her expression is relaxed, but focused. She doesn't even notice that I'm there.

"Mum, aren't you tired?"
"mmm? Hey do you think we should put this picture of a cupcake here or on the other wall?"

The woman is decorating the house close to midnight.

I have just about dropped off to sleep when I hear her turn the treadmill on.

This is just another day in the life of my mama.

What I find most amazing is that I have never heard a single complaint from her. The most I have ever got out of her is "I'm tired, so tired today". That's it. She could definitely show those moaning brits a thing or two.

It is even rarer to find my mum taking time out just for herself and if she ever does, it is always late at night.

I don't know how she does it.

But I am sure as hell glad that she is my mum.

Writers block

“The inability to write for some period of time. It can be the inability to come up with good ideas to start a story, or extreme dissatisfaction with all efforts to write”

 I revisit my blog page frequently. Sometimes I reread the blogs that I have written but mostly I just sit and stare at the screen. The minutes will tick by and all I can hear in my head is an eerie silence. Plus crickets sometimes. I even saw a leprechaun once. 

 I look at my last blog. April 2011. You would think that I would have so many adventures to write about after my two year fling with England. 

  I do. 

Somewhere inside this unorganized, last minute crazy chick is an anal and methodical woman who needs to have my blogspot in order. I want my blogs to be written as events arise and topics to be categorically arranged. I want each blog itself to be humorous, witty, intelligent and something that everybody can relate to. I want my blog to be in line with the times. I want my blog to be so interesting that people cannot stop reading it from start to end. 

 But lately, I have not even wanted to read my own work. 

 My computer recycle bin, Bill, is full of scrunched up cyber pieces of failed writing. 

 A years worth to be exact. 

 I am sorry cyber bin Bill. 

 How can I possibly write about every single mishap, adventure or travel that I have experienced in the last year? The task is so big and too overwhelming. So too often I close the safari window and seek comfort from face book because I am too anal to write about the present knowing that I did not write about past events to date, well not satisfactorily anyway. 

 So here I am. Finally making myself give up that anal part of me for the sake of writing. 

 And what do you know? Writing became easy again.