it hits you like a brick in the most unexpected way, this thing called Motherhood, and the realisation that there is a Power you get to wield with that title.
the Power of Emotional Blackmail, aka The Guilt Trip.
many generations of mothers no doubt have discovered the full force of this Power, even further than the days of si tanggang and batu belah batu bertangkup. cavewomen probably used it on their caveoffsprings when the latter tries to do something stupid like club their cavemummy’s heads.
the little one had so far been somewhat ‘immune’ to my shouts of “NO!” when he attempts to wreak mischief, oftentimes eyeing me while continuing his endeavours, or escaping with a grin before coming back to repeat the offence. he’s also used to my ‘jentik’ punishments, offering me his hand when asked for it.
there was one time when i tried another tactic of holding him down and getting him to “look at mummy” while i tell him not to do something particularly naughty, but he leaned close towards my face and made googly eyes, which made me burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles… and he wriggled himself free to do that particularly naughty thing again.
last week, we were having dinner outside, and as usual, i was the last to touch my food, being occupied with the task of feeding my little caveoffspring his dinner first. he’d had a bit of papadom (yes yes, very oily and salty etc, i know, tsk tsk) coz he loved all things crispy, and halfway through his rice, he demanded another bit of papadom.
instead of the usual “NO!”, i gave him The Look. yes. no words, just… The Look.
if you have a mother, i’m sure you’d know The Look. The Look that says a thousand “no”s, the kind that withers flowers, the kind that emits palpable disapproval, the kind that radiates displeasure, the kind that makes, well, little boys cry.
which was exactly what he did, scrunch up his face and burst into tears. his grandpa quickly shoved a papadom bit into his hand, while i continued giving The Look. the boy, papadom clenched in fist, was torn. he looked at me, his desire to gobble up the papadom overwhelming, called out a pathetic “maaa?”, and his face immediately scrunched up into tears again.
a giggle almost escaped from my lips, but the rule of the game is to maintain The Look, or forever undermine the power bestowed upon you.
i’m an evil, evil mother.
again the wimpering “maa?” almost broke me, coupled with the tears and snot, but his grandpa swooped in and carried him out to distract him (and let him eat his papadom in peace).
and that was the moment it occurred to me that i have The Power. the lights turned on above my head. NOW i get it. so THIS is how sons (does it apply only to first sons? only sons? or all sons?) develop The Guilt when it comes to their mums. woaah.
anyway, i finally got to have my dinner (which, as usual, had grown cold), and a while later, the grandpa came in with the little bub, all smiley again. he said he kept going “maaa.. maaa…” and looking at my direction while he was outside, and seeing me without my Medusa impersonation made him feel better.
ahh. i think i shall bask in The Power while it lasts…
(which i foresee will end when he finds himself a Wife, lol!)
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