Everyday for You: The Imperfectly Perfect Mother

Yes, Mother's Day was two days ago and not today, but it caught me unaware as there seem to be 20 days we celebrate women in a year, and I often mix them up and never get the dates right. Better late than never, innit?

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This is an article dedicated to all the mother's far and near, for their valiant effort in raising their nations. They are not perfect in everything, but their imperfections are exactly what make them perfect.

I don't know what it's like to be a parent, and I will not for a long time, for I am but a young chap. However, I do understand what it's like to be a child, and more importantly, I do know what it's like to be raised by a loving, kind, and compassionate mother. So, indeed, I do can say one or two things about my experience with being "parented."

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I would like to first say that, hands down, I definitely would not be the person I am today if not for her. I really am nowhere close to where I'd like to see myself, but I am well on track β€” because someone put me on track. My utmost gratitude belongs to her for loving me without caution, wholeheartedly, unconditionally, and being there for every step of the way.

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Motherhood is indeed a job with no holidays. I have never seen a time when my mother could have been there for us and she wasn't. She would always do everything for us, my brother and I. And factoring in the fact that she was single-parenting us all the way makes her the superwoman of my life. I have shared a glimpse of how this single-parenting came about in a different post right here: The Void You Left || A Soliloquy. Indulge yourself if you'd like. She could have left as well if she wanted, but she just didn't; She stuck with her boys.

The Imperfectly Perfect Mother

We're all humans, and we all have our shortcomings; that's what makes us human. And in all my years of being "parented," I can confidently say that my mother has been the best I could have asked for, regardless of the thousands of disagreements and arguments we may have had. She is the largest stakeholder in my life, as she has had the most impact on the kind of person I have become.

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You see, whenever my mother took us to visit a friend of hers or a family member of ours, and we stayed the night or some days, she always got similar reports about her boys. They were all saying one thing, basically, and that is, "Your boys are well trained and brought up." This deduction would have been made at the sight of the little things we did that made all the difference.

In 2018, my mother's cousin passed away. We had her funeral set for Ibadan, a city in a different state far from us, and we needed a place to stay. Another of my mother's cousins, a brother to our late "Big Mommy," had a friend of his take us in. We had not met this friend before, so we were almost strangers to him, but he took us in and we stayed a night.

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In the morning of the next day, the man who took us in got up early to get his car washed in preparation for the funeral service that day. What my brother and I did next surprised him, according to him. My brother and I went out to meet him and asked to relieve him by doing the car wash for him instead. While we did it, he could tell that we were glad to do it, as my brother and I, you know, "had fun" doing it.

This man, on my mother's birthday in 2020, came to testify that we were indeed good boys and were taught well. It was not just for the car washing scenario alone, but for the other chores we did that morning and how respectful we were to his family and even friendly to his kids that were way younger than we were. It's all similar to what everyone says about us whenever they meet us, my brother and I. All of which tells a lot about what an excellent mother she is, and there are values that we have emulated from her.

Virtues upon virtues...

A true mother would give her all to make her children happy and satisfied. My mother could have gotten herself all the nice things she had always desired, but she has always sacrificed all for her boys. She sometimes sacrifices her time to rest. What manner of love!

Over here, "spare the rod, spoil the child" is taken literally. Yes, it does sound absurd that beating a child is a way of showing love. That's just how it is. And, really, it's not as bad as it sounds β€” if you are not on the other end of the cane, that is.

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Now, I do not mean to imply that my mother beat us as kids to show love. But she never lets the opportunity to correct us slip, and some times it is followed by some delicious strokes of the cane or a slap on the back (very heavy), enough to bring the brain back to factory settings. Believe me, I have planned my escape from her house many times. But now, I am a big boy.

There is this Yoruba adage, however, that states that "when one uses the right hand to chastise a child, the other left hand should be used to draw them closer." It implies that as one reprimands a child, love should be equally shown by making the child understand that it is out of care for them. Although the child may be in tears (literally) at that moment, they will not resent the parent but rather remain understanding that they were being taught to do better. My mother always implemented this.

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I can go on and on about how amazing she has been, and how much she has been there for us, how she loves, cares, and looks out for us, but there won't be enough words to describe it all.

There are days for specific types of celebration, but for my mother, everyday is Mother's Day. I will celebrate her everyday. And to conclude this article, I'll leave this heartfelt message for her:

π™Όπš’ πšπšŽπšŠπš› π™Όπš˜πš–, 𝚒𝚘𝚞 πšŠπš›πšŽ πš˜πšžπš› πš’πš–πš™πšŽπš›πšπšŽπšŒπšπš•πš’ πš™πšŽπš›πšπšŽπšŒπš πš–πš˜πšπš‘πšŽπš›. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 πš‘πšŠπšŸπšŽ πš›πšŠπš’πšœπšŽπš 𝚞𝚜 πš πš’πšπš‘ πš’πš˜πšžπš› πš πš‘πš˜πš•πšŽ πš‘πšŽπšŠπš›πš, πšœπšŠπšŒπš›πš’πšπš’πšŒπš’πš—πš πšŠπš•πš• πšπš˜πš› πš’πš˜πšžπš› πš‹πš˜πš’πšœ. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 πš•πš˜πšŸπšŽ 𝚞𝚜 πš›πšŽπšŒπš”πš•πšŽπšœπšœπš•πš’ πšŠπš—πš πšžπš—πšŒπš˜πš—πšπš’πšπš’πš˜πš—πšŠπš•πš•πš’. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 πš‘πšŠπšŸπšŽ πšœπš‘πš˜πš πš— πš–πš’ πš‹πš›πš˜πšπš‘πšŽπš› πšŠπš—πš πš–πšŽ πšπš‘πšŠπš πšπš‘πšŽ πšŸπš’πš›πšπšžπšŽπšœ 𝚘𝚏 πš›πšŽπšœπš™πšŽπšŒπš, πš‘πšŠπš›πš πš πš˜πš›πš”, πšŠπš—πš πš”πš’πš—πšπš—πšŽπšœπšœ πšŠπš›πšŽ πšπš‘πšŽ πšπš˜πšžπš—πšπšŠπšπš’πš˜πš—πšœ 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 πš•πš’πšŸπš’πš—πš. πšƒπš‘πšŠπš—πš” 𝚒𝚘𝚞 πšŠπš•πš πšŠπš’πšœ, π™Όπš˜πš–, πšπš˜πš› πš‹πšŽπš’πš—πš πš˜πšžπš› πšœπšžπš™πšŽπš›πš πš˜πš–πšŠπš— πšŠπš—πš πšπš˜πš› πšπšŽπšŠπšŒπš‘πš’πš—πš πšŠπš—πš πšπšžπš’πšπš’πš—πš 𝚞𝚜, πšŽπšŸπšŽπš— πš’πš πš’πš πš–πšŽπšŠπš—πš πš›πšŽπšŒπšŽπš’πšŸπš’πš—πš πšπšŽπš•πš’πšŒπš’πš˜πšžπšœ πšœπšπš›πš˜πš”πšŽπšœ 𝚘𝚏 πšπš‘πšŽ πšŒπšŠπš—πšŽ. π™½πš˜ πš˜πš—πšŽ πš’πšœ πš™πšŽπš›πšπšŽπšŒπš πšœπšπš’πš•πš•, πš‹πšžπš πš’πš˜πšžπš› πš’πš–πš™πšŽπš›πšπšŽπšŒπšπš’πš˜πš—πšœ πšŠπš›πšŽ πšŽπš‘πšŠπšŒπšπš•πš’ πš πš‘πšŠπš πš–πšŠπš”πšŽ 𝚒𝚘𝚞 πš™πšŽπš›πšπšŽπšŒπš, πšŠπš—πš πš’πš˜πšžπš› πš‹πš˜πš’πšœ πš•πš˜πšŸπšŽ 𝚒𝚘𝚞 πšπš˜πš› πš’πš.

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