My mom was the type of woman who loved when people praised her kids. I think it made her proud of how well she raised her children. I and my siblings always looked good and neat, and we had no choice but to come top of our classes. It was actually nice to be every child's wannabe in the neighborhood, but things were soon to change, as I grew up to have different hobbies than what my mother had dreamed for me.
My mom made me join the church choir, and as if that wasn't enough, she wanted me to volunteer for Saturday church cleaning services.
"Mom, I don't think I can do this." I said to her after she had made her intentions known.
"Why can't you? What's wrong with serving the Lord? Have you been influenced by bad friends?" She threw so many questions at me all at once.
"Mom, it's nothing like that. I'm just saying that I have a life too, and I'm already in the choir, but this cleaning stuff can't happen. I need to do stuff that'll pay me." I tried explaining to her.
"Are you saying that you're no longer contented with living under my roof?" She asked me.
"Arrggh, Mom!!! Whatever, I'll volunteer." I said and started to walk away but she called me back.
"Jane, what's with this new attitude of yours? Should I be worried about losing a daughter?" She asked me.
"Mom, doing something I love won't make you lose me. I have a life too; you can't make me spend all my life doing church work." I replied.
"Can you hear the rubbish you're spewing from that mouth of yours? Don't you see how every parent loves you, and even advises their children to be like you?" She asked again.
"Honestly Mom, I don't like it. Those kids hate me because their parents always compare them to me, and that's very wrong. I won't argue anymore; I'll just do the volunteer." I said and walked away.
The truth is I only agreed so she could let me be, and stay out of my way, but there was no way that I was going to spend my Saturdays at a church. So I devised a new strategy on how to bypass the whole thing, and an awesome idea came to me.
Every Saturday morning, while everyone thought that I had gone for the cleaning, I'd link up with my friends and we'd go for dance practices which was what I really wanted. It went on for about a month, and things were good till my detective of a mother caught on.
"Jane, how has the volunteering work been?" She asked me.
"Well, it's been good. It's nice helping out to clean the church." I responded.
There was something in the way she narrowed her eyes as she stared at me, but I didn't believe there would be any troubles until she started her interrogations.
"I came by on Saturday, and you weren't at the church and no one had seen you all day. I hung around for a while, but you didn't show up. What really happened that day? She asked me, and a thousand lies that I could come up with roamed my head, but for some reason, I chose the most stupid one.
"On my way going, I saw a wounded dog, I knew if I didn't do anything to help, it'd die. So, I tried to save the dog." I said to her.
"Aren't you cynophobic? When did your fear of dogs diminish?" She asked me with a wild look on her face.
"I don't know, Mom. I just had to help." I replied, and she nodded her head and left the house.
I felt a bit of relief after she left, but then I wondered if my excuse was strong enough to avoid any future dramas, I guess it wasn't because the next thing I heard was the barking of a dog, and as the door opened, I saw my mom walk in with a dog. She let the little puppy loose, and as it wagged its tail and ran towards me, I sprinted out of the living room and locked myself inside my room.
"Why did you run? Aren't you a veterinarian now? You choose to lie to your mother; do you think saying you helped a dying dog will change anything? How stupid of you to come at me with that silly and weak excuse. You should've done better, and this dog will be here for the rest of the day." She yelled.
I shivered in fear and bit my lips for underestimating my Mom. That day, I didn't move an inch from my room, and my mom didn't even bother with it. I regretted having to tell that lie; it was a weak excuse that had gotten me into more trouble.
I paid for it by following my mom who now played the role of a chauffeur to the church every Saturday for cleaning. It was suffocating, but it had to be that or co-habiting with a dog. And all these were a result of my weak excuses.
