We Filipinos are commonly known for the following traits: friendly, outgoing, fun-loving and FAMILY ORIENTED. I give emphasis to the latter for it has significance to me.It is so because the family tree where I descended from is deeply rooted to that kind of culture. As a matter of fact, even right now that I had already a family of my own and 3 children I’m still living with my mother. It’s also because I got married before realizing that my husband and I could not own a house and lot unit yet. We are accidentally in love. That’s how I give a title to my love story. But that will be revealed soon.
Going back to my family, I was brought up with good moral values and being God-fearing by my parents. We are catholic and my mom has this strong belief in God that empowered me to be the same also. I can’t remember way back childhood a moment that I bring myself to a fight. I always give in and give ways I’m a peacekeeper.
What’s most intriguing, the person I often got a fight with is my mom. As far as I can remember, the first disagreement we had been into was when I was 16 years old. A teenager, who wanted to belong, wanted to be understood, wanted to be free, and wanted to be responsible. But I was deprived of that. Perhaps the fact that I’m the youngest and only girl in the family made her so overly protective. Little that my mom knew, the more she oppressed me the more I wanted to come out from my nutshell.
I grew up envious of my friends who were treated by their moms like sisters. How I have longed and wished to have switched to another mom but we cannot choose our parents. We can only obey them and follow their instructions.
Falling in love was the main reason. Why she never wanted me to date? Reasons that I wanted to know but were not completely being told. I found it hard to open up with my mom I always hang by a thread and felt unwelcome. But I still obeyed her and the rest of my teenage years were spent to home chores and school works. I hardly visit friends. That was also prohibited. My friends refrained from visiting me as well, they knew how strict my mom was.
My mother’s character is as sturdy as an old tree, she never changed her perspective in life. Along with the fading of colors, withering of leaves and changing of years she is still the same as before-stereotypical mom. The only difference now, is that she’s not applying that tactics to me anymore but to her grandsons-my own kids. We often times got disagreement over disciplinary actions I am imposing to my children. My mom is not an open-minded type and I’m afraid that it’s not applicable to my children anymore since we are now living in a very hip world. I need to be interactive with my kids’ feelings. I know all along with the modernization of time, the younger generation became bold and egocentric. I need to be open to them. Communication is a must nowadays between children and parents.
It’s really challenging for me to have strong-willed children being raised by two different disciplinary approaches. I remembered the last time my mom and I had a fight was last week. The disagreement provoked when my 4-year-old son asked me if he could watch the classic Muppet Show. My mother was not in favor of indulging the children’s attention into so much television shows. I know she had a point there, but it’s depriving my child with his right I believe. And the fact that the material is not offensive to the child’s moral being then why should I not let him viewed it.
The good thing about our fighting over a disagreement from her perspective, is that we sometimes had the time to weigh things together. Who was right and who was not. Then the disagreement is settled as soon as one of us realized who’s fault is to consider. I know for sure my mom won’t come down from her throne to say how sorry she was. I always ended as the bad character.
Consequently, in my deepest solitude I have made a poem for my mom.
Mom let me grow
I remembered when I was small,
How you felt like when I stumble and fall.
How you build up my mind and courage,
You brought out the best in me up on a stage.
But I can’t remember a look upon your face,
How you welcome me with your embrace.
If in the midst of my recital I falter and shiver,
I can only imagine lines of anger in your stare.
Day by day, I grew up striving to be perfect,
I felt hatred why I can’t commit a mistake.
All those times I was insanely trying,
Holding back all those tears that were falling.
I grow up feeling that I don’t belong,
Everything right for me you say it’s all wrong.
I’m hanging with questions I wanted to know
Yet, what’s there for me is only to follow.
I live and learn I have a life ahead-my own,
Am I going to make it when I’m grown?
I’m still living in someone’s shadow,
When can I decide to face my own sorrow?
Perhaps I’ll grow up but still hanging,
Myriad of questions which I am concealing.
To the lovely person who managed my life,
Mom, let me grow I’m now a wife.