Happy Birthday, Mummy!

Today is my mum's birthday. My father was thankfully nudged into remembering it by me last night because I didn't want him forgetting her birthday three times in a row this year. Luckily for him, my mum is one of those people who does not care much about birthdays; so my dad'’s forgetfulness was not too much of a big deal.

My mum and I normally don't exactly get along. We fight a lot. This is actually an understatement. We fight all the time is probably a more accurate description of my relationship with my mother. She always tells me off for not being more useful around the house. I always tell her that she should appreciate having me as a daughter and be thankful that I'’m not a drug addict, teen angsting, alternative music listening, purple haired creep, which I could have pretty much turned out to be if I had wanted. But mostly we fight for the same old reasons, and normally require external assistance in the form of my father to send us into our respective rooms in order to have some peace and quiet in our household.

What I personally love about our fights is that she is always the first one to make up. She can never be upset with me for more than an hour. So I guess, there'’s no bitterness in our relationship. As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, my ability to judge how much I love a person comes from how much that person can affect me enough to get on my nerves. Sometimes, I have to guiltily admit that I feel like throwing things at my mother.

My mum can actually read my mind. It's scary, but it'’s true. Sometimes when I was younger I used to think that she was literally inside my mind. She always tells me that she just knows. Now, I don't even bother asking her how does she always know. I never need to tell her how I'’m feeling or how my day was. She claims she can read it on my face, however well I'’m trying to cover it up. This makes it very difficult to lie or conceal things from her.

According to my father, the only thing I've inherited from my mother are my procrastination abilities and my immense dislike for any sort of work. Both of us don'’t even bother denying, this. What can I say, there has to be something other than my height that I should have got from my mother'’s genes. My mum is tiny, she'’s really small and thin, well, smaller and thinner than me at least. This makes it possible for her to have a complete access to my wardrobe. We fight over my clothes all the times. I hate it when she wears my clothes. She never minds when I wear hers.

My mum was relatively young when she had me, and she'’s managed to age quite well. Most people normally mistake us for sisters. I love people complimenting my mum on the fact that she looks so young. It makes me happy because she'’s so pretty. She always tells me that she was too young when I was born, and had no idea how to deal with children. Well, I personally think she did a fine job. Mum'’s also great with people. Everyone who knows her loves her including the people she works for and all the cleaning women. What wouldn'’t I do to have her social skills?

My mum is rather absurd. She comes up with the silliest suggestions, which involve no logical thinking whatsoever. She is terrified of heights. See, the fact that she has problems with heights wouldn'’t matter much to me, but the fact that she insists that I keep away from them is what leads to our inexorable arguments. My mum also has every phobia in the world -– heights, darkness, closed spaces, crowds, insects and every other thing one can think of. But she i’s always a good sport and doesn'’t mind our incessant teasing.

She likes things done her way all the time, which inevitably leads to our numerous arguments because I like the same. She never ever gives in when we fight. She i’s the most stubborn creature I'’ve ever come across. She is more stubborn than I am and that takes some effort.

She always falls asleep mid way of movies, a habit that I'’ve recently started finding adorable.

She is also obsessed with cleaning. If I could divide every person in this world into six different groups based on the characters in Friends, my mum would definitely be a Monica. She'’s scary when she cleans and the problem is that she'’s always cleaning.

She is great at finding missing property. It's a skill, I tell you. She once managed to find a pair of our house keys on the street two days after our maid had accidentally dropped them. I've lost count of the number of times she's retrieved lost items for me - missing earrings, bags, food, books, important documents, keys and the list continues.

However she may be, she'’s still my mum and I love her from the bottom my heart. She i’s the bestest mother in the whole world according to me, and I wouldn'’t replace her for all the riches in the world. So, here'’s wishing her a very happy birthday.