Reflections

“Mirror, mirror on the wall

   Is that you mommy

   Looking back at me?”

Growing up, you could say that my relationship with my mother conformed to the usual phases that most girls go through: 

Up to age 11-  I looked up to my mother.  She knew everything.  I wanted to grow up and be like her. Specially the part about baking goodies for my children. 

After 11 years old - it’s a different picture.  At that time, I felt my mother did not understand me. She was bent on making my life miserable.  I wanted to have my own identity, my own way.  No parties with boys; no to sleep-overs; no to school outings… No, No, No.

This went on most of my teen years.  Until my mother finally said, “You can do what you want to do when you finish college and have a job.”

And when the time came, she did not go back on her words.  As soon as I graduated and got employed, she loosened her grip. I felt liberated and I took in everything with wide-eyed enthusiasm.  But a tiny voice that sounded so much like my mother was always there to reel me in when there were doubts.

It’s funny that as I got married and started to have a life of my own, I did not want to cut the strings that tied me to my mother. 

“I want my mommy!”, I called out when I was having painful contractions during the birth of my first child.

I looked forward to weekend sleepovers at my mother’s house even if it meant dragging my husband along and moving a whole carload of baby stuff for the visit.   

When we moved to Manila and my mother moved on to the States, I would privately cry for her when the going was rough.  Her absence was greatly felt at the birth of my second child. 

Of course, things became manageable and I contented myself with the occasional long-distance phone calls and letters.

I have since repeated many of my mother’s ways—with my children, with my cooking and baking, with my love for dancing and singing, and with how I deal with people and my faith. 

My mother will forever be a part of who I am. 

-----xoxoxox----

It’s been a little over 5 years since my mother decided that she would like to spend more time in Cebu than in the States.    As fate would have it, retirement has given me the opportunity to frequently visit or to call my mother.  If I am not visiting, I make it a point to call her at least twice in a week.  We burn the lines with stories about the latest family gossip or reminisce about things in the past. 

In two years time my mother will be 80.  She may have difficulty remembering where she put her blood pressure digital monitor or my birthday. She may repeat a story two, three, four times. But that’s alright.   After all she is my mother.

---xoxoxox---

Chicken yesterday, chicken today and chicken tomorrow. 

If my mother could have her way (and she usually does), she would have chicken everyday.  And should my siblings and I take her out for a meal, we must ensure that the restaurant we are visiting has chicken on the menu.  Fried, stewed or grilled  – nothing fancy as long as it is chicken.

So in honor of my dear mother, I would like to share with you a basic chicken sandwich spread.  Add boiled and cubed potatoes or macaroni and it’s a salad.

Chicken Sandwich Spread

1 chicken breast, boiled, deboned and shredded

1 celery rib, minced

1 t minced onion

½ - 1 c mayonnaise

1 T pickle relish

1 – 2 boiled egg/s, chopped

Salt, pepper and sugar to taste

Place all of the ingredients in a bowl.  Mix to make sure that all the ingredients are evenly distributed.  Depending on your preference, you may add or limit the amounts of each ingredient.

You may directly add a tablespoon of the chicken spread to sliced bread or a bun that has some butter spread on the inside.   

For a fancy presentation, place some lettuce and thin slices of apples on the bread before topping with the chicken spread.  This will bring your sandwich to a higher level of mother-approved deliciousness.