This Sunday officially marks Mother’s Day, but who are we kidding here, every day is Mother’s Day.
In Zim, the very common slang term for one’s mother is “Queen” as in, “What am I getting my Queen for Mother’s Day” or “Eish, I must not forget to call the Queen this Sunday or my a*s is grass.” ‘Tis a very fitting term for the woman we all owe a lot too…and who doesn’t let us forget we owe her a lot, lol!
K over at The Tattoo Journal blog recently wrote the most hilarious post outlining her mother’s hardcore methods in keeping her in-line when growing up. I love her post ‘cause it outlines how mother’s will not think twice to use questionable means to hit a point home and how their lessons always come from a place of love (they care that much).
One particular memory comes to mind when I think of mum going beyond the call of duty to teach her offspring a lesson. This scenario doesn’t involve me, but my brother and went a little like this:
At the tender age of 11 (or was it 12) my brother had discovered the fairer sex. His attitude had gone from “Girls, yuck!” to “Girls, girls, girls!” Anywho, it was round about this time that he and his cronies discovered that snogging was an entertaining past time and their days were consumed with finding willing female participants for their “social experiments”.
At some point it came to light that one of my brother’s willing female partakers was in fact, not being as exclusive with her spit as she had lead him to believe and was instead running her own social experiment.
Now my brother and my mother have a very close bond, as mother’s and their son’s usually do, so it was no surprise when my brother on learning his fellow spit swapper was the neighbourhood strumpet went off to confide in my mother.
Except this time, his “pal” was not amused and was going to make sure that he a) Learnt that all forms of sexual promiscuity would never be taken lightly and b) To up the calibre of his girlfriends in future.
My brother did not get the sympathetic ear he was hoping for; instead he got a trip to the doctor instead.
My mother, in cahoots with our family GP, drummed into him the dangers of all forms of sexual engagement (supposedly, this includes kissing) and how fraternising with multiple partners would increases his chances of being exposed to HIV/AIDS.
If that wasn’t enough, the family GP (on strict instructions from my mother) then put my brother on a 60 day course of ARV’s to drum the point home. Okay, we later learnt that they weren’t actually ARV’s but sugar tablets, but bloody heck, my brother’s 11 year old bones were rattled to say the least and my mother certainly got her point her across.
I believe every mother’s MO is “Through any means necessary!”
To all mum’s and mum’s-to-be, here’s hoping you have a fantastic day and get spoilt rotten!
To my mummy – I love you to bits; thanks for loving me back, keeping me in line, being there for me and teaching me the beauty of compassion, faith, forgiveness and love.
Have a fantastic weekend chickens, keep safe and don't forget to show your mamma some love!