She is prideful. Mom always wins. She is headstrong, and she's always right. Even when she's not, she'll guilt-trip us by saying things like "Ya la ya la, you're always right, I'm always wrong", thereby winning the entire argument altogether. She holds herself at a distance. Sometimes, it's almost as if her love language is neither affirmation nor service nor gifts nor quality time nor touch, but she chuckles, and you'll know she is merely hiding behind a veil of indifference.
She is hard-to-please. Shopping for her is probably one of the most difficult things to do. If you buy her something she didn't ask for, she doesn't like it. Know how most moms appreciate it when their kids make cards for them? She threw away our cards after reading them that one year we made them for her. She's hardly impressed when we update her about our grades either, often brushing us off with a nonchalant "work harder next time" (even when it is a 98/100). I once confronted her about it, and she rebutted that she only reveals how proud she is when she tells other people about our achievements, because she doesn't want us to get too cocky. She often criticises my singing and has absolutely no qualms in pointing out my shortcomings. Mother's Day a few years back, however, I did a cover of Martina McBride's In My Daughter's Eyes for her and she embarrassingly tried to download it off YouTube so that she could set it as her ringtone.
She is extremely loud, and occasionally violent. When she wakes up at 5am every morning, you would know it, because everything she does (even walking down the stairs), she does it with force. She also wields a cane like a third hand. I can't even begin to count how many times the sissy and I have been on the receiving end of the cane growing up. But mom, she doesn't just believe in using the rod to discipline us. After each utterly torturous cat-and-mouse chase (which mostly ends up with me/the sissy hiding in the toilet and heaving tearfully, and her threatening to knock the door down), she would explain -whilst yelling of course- why she is so mad, and make sure we understand her intentions.
She is distrustful. She is the definition of paranoid. Remember the Hong Kong trip I did with the band girls last year? They had to list 6-7 countries before she finally relented and allowed me to go, and only because my family has already been to Hong Kong once. Even though she doesn't impose a curfew on the sissy and I, she never fails to give us a call and check our whereabouts if it's 9pm+ and we're still out. She's also extremely skeptical of good intents, so I grew up fighting against her belief and influence, and trying to prove that people can be nice to you without expecting anything (beyond your abilities at least - because come on, real altruism doesn't exist) in return.
She is money-minded. She scrimps, she saves. She makes and brings her own lunches to work, and she wears hand-me-downs that my aunts can no longer fit in. She likes many things but choose not to buy anything because she is stingy with herself in order to give the sissy and I everything we want.
She is a little too creative. She loves trying out recipes and tweaking them so they never taste the same twice. She sometimes also colours the sky red and the grass blue when preparing materials for her Sunday School kids. You can never count on her to help you with art or makeup because she's really more of a hindrance than a help in these aspects, but then again, what she lacks in, her extremely detailed husband makes up for.
You may be wondering, "why don't you just tell your mom all these instead of posting it on your blog?" Well, mom is the epitome of impatient. If I were to tell her all these verbally, she'll hear the words 'prideful', 'hard-to-please', 'loud', 'violent', 'distrustful', 'paranoid', 'money-minded', 'a little too creative', jump to conclusions, and blow up before I can proceed to put a spin to it (ha! Org comm. concept in place here, whee~). Also, I have to admit that like my mom, I am too, a little prideful myself, so it is highly likely that this whole thing will end up sounding more like a passive-aggressive accusation.
So, there's a 99% chance that mom will never ever come across this because I am not going to tell her about this, and we are not friends on Facebook (should I decide to share this on Facebook), but in the 1% event that she does find this, know that the 21-year-old Stephanie needs you, relies on you, loves you, and thinks you're the most amazing woman in the whole wide world, just as much as the 3-year-old Stephanie did.
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