To Everything Turn, Turn, Turn

Not too long ago, friends and I would spend hours on the topic of child-rearing techniques.  The topics range from the best way to sooth a colic baby; how to prepare delicious meals for picky eaters;  proven approaches to easing the pains of separation anxieties; teaching methods to improve memory; sure-fire tactics on how to deal with rebellious and moody teens.

With our children all grown-up and living their own lives, my friends and I still spend time talking about the same things but this time we speak of our mothers and not our children.  Just like children, our mothers have come to need care, need understanding, need patience, need company, need help.

Taking care of mothers, like taking care of children, brings on mixed feelings of frustrations and impatience wrapped up in a thin blanket of melancholy. We try to shake off this uncomfortable feeling by making light of recent incidents of our mothers’ forgetfulness and their idiosyncrasies.

We laugh as we exchange exaggerated tales—complete with dialogue.  Not to put down our mothers.  This coping mechanism underlines the deep concern and realization of our mother’s needs.  Our laughter distracts us from dwelling on the dark side of care-giving and helps us focus on the joy of being able to spend time with our mothers. Yes, we complain about the difficulties of the relationship (the same way we used to complain about sleepless nights tending to our babies) but we also see it as a continued opportunity to be grateful for lessons on patience and perseverance and love.

And towards the end of such conversations, a sober mood descend over our little chat group as we acknowledge that one day, we too (if God wills it), shall be like our mothers (or fathers).  Needing care, attention, patience, compassion, and a steady supply of love.  When that day comes, our children will be talking and laughing with their friends about us.  

A time to be born and a time to grow old

---xoxoxox---

Just recently, I sat with three of my very close elementary and high school buddies.  We chose to have lunch at Lemongrass—a Thai and Vietnamese inspired resto in Cebu.  As always, with such fun and fond friends, we picked up our conversation from last we left off.  Although our primary reason for meeting was to draft plans for a high school reunion, this took second place as we talked about the latest escapades: ours, our children, mutual friends and our mothers.

 In between bites of pad thai noodles and sips of delicious citrus and herbs lemonade, we remembered a particular play we all got to play a part in: The Trouble with Mothers.

It was about a group of teenagers who exchanged places with their mothers for one day.   In the end, both sides got to understand of each other better.  So funny then and quite relevant to our lives now as we navigate through our relationship with our mothers.

---xoxoxox---

The lunch was not only delicious but served the purpose of being able to air our concerns about our mothers.  There was comfort to be derived from listening to each other and knowing ours was not a unique situation.

The Thai and Vietnamese meal also inspired us to dream of travelling to Hanoi together.  While I hope the travel dream does come true in the near future, for the time being, I share with you a recipe of a herby lemonade.  It’s got a mother and daughter seal of approval.

The Curly Cook's Herby Lemonade

½ c fresh calamansi juice or Lemon or other cirtrus fruit

1 small cucumber, peeled with seeds removed and chopped

½ c mint leaves

1 c sugar added to 1 c water (simple syrup: simmer together until sugar is dissolved)

1 liter of cold water

Garnish:

1 orange, thinly sliced into rings

1 small cucumber, thinly sliced into rings

A handful of mint

Lots of ice

In a blender, zap together the chopped cucumber and mint leaves.  When done, place in a pitcher together with the simple syrup, water, orange and cucumber slices and some mint leaves.  Stir and pour over ice.

Share a glass with your mother and daughter.  The gesture will say it all.