My Wonderful Parents

the 'black' and 'white'

a bit cheesy hah? my wonderful parents. sounds like some primary school composition homework. but last night, i was watching some feature show on a magician family. that got me thinking about my own parents.

i decided to blog about my parents, cos i would like to commemorate them. they did, and are still doing, a lot for me. not that i recently got enlightened that all parents are great and yada yada.. i think that when kids grow up, they go either way: they distance themselves from their parents thinking they finally are freed of their reigns, or they grow closer to them, after understanding all the scoldings as we mature and have our own social standards.

i would like to think i belong to the latter.

my mom: she nags a lot, she has incredible mood swings. she always says that she looks horrible in pictures; in this one, i couldn't agree more. she doesn't seem to look prepared at all in any pictures, i wonder why. i think my mom is a superhuman. she has such energy within her, i don't know where it comes from. she works, she cleans up after every slob in the house, nags all day and all night long, and sometimes giving off a nuclear bomb. hell, i'm already a living dead when i work.

my mom adores my sister and me.. my sis and i know, but we cannot help ourselves snapping back when she gets on nagging louder and louder. i think i've mastered the skill of switching my sense of hearing off when her nag switch is on. but she has to love us to nag at us. a weird logic, and something that we have to grow up before we really understand. but yah, do you think anyone will give two hoots about you if they don't bother to open their mouths to talk to you? heck, she even bothers to get ruffled. only people whom she cares can make her do that, no?

i think, the most misunderstood people in the world are fathers. they are the silent ones at home. sometimes they don't breathe a word at home, looking unapproachable. at least, that was when i was young. and no matter how fierce my mom was with me, i found it easier to run to my mom than to my dad. but dad, he still loves his daughters. in a way, that kids only know when we grow up and then find out, how he saved and slogged for us. people often than not pick on things that were not done for them, but have we really looked properly and see what they had done for us? or, what we've done for them? only when i grow up, and my dad talks to me on a more personal level, (prolly cos he thinks that i only can talk sense when i'm an adult) that i know how much he had sacrificed and thought for this family. thinking back, when i quarrelled badly with my mom and crying, he was the one who held my head to his big tummy and said that no matter what, he loves me.

i look at them now, and look how they aged so much. everything droops. i feel sad. what have i really done for them, really? i would like to think i brought joy and laughter to them ever the day i was born, but i'd also brought about much tears and pain. do you look at your parents, see how they've aged and feel pained? maybe that's when you know, that you're finally grown up.