Mak-mak dulu...

I have a lot respect for mothers in the old days – during those times when a family usually consists of 6, 8 or more kids, when the father was the sole breadwinner and the mother the sole domestic manager.

This morning I read a blog where the writer confessed that she had never felt so challenged in all her life as a mother now that her three children are all young adults.

This morning I also received an email from an old friend who, like me, has two sons - a toddler and a newborn baby. She confessed a sentiment which echoes my own – “rasa hidup terkejar-kejar ke sana ke mari”.

Just the other night, Mak remarked that the challenges of being a mother is never ending - from day one until she exhales her last breath, only it varies in forms and manners.

Imagine those mothers in the old days.

Back in the days with no water or electric supply in the house, what more microwave oven, fridge, blender, washing machine, vacuum cleaner or dishwasher. No disposable diapers, prepared sauces and flavorings, frozen meals or canned soup.
Back in the days when they never heard of child psychologists, motivators or family counselors.

Imagine their physical strength – to do all the water fetching, wood cutting, spices grinding, sambal pounding, cooking, washing and cleaning from dawn to sunset. And they had to wake up in the middle of the night too – to change diapers, nurse the baby, calm a child who just had a bad nightmare, sooth the child who was down with fever…

Imagine their emotional and mental strength – nurturing and catering the differing needs of kids from various stages – newborn, toddlers, schoolchildren and young adults - all simultaneously.
Sometimes they even took in their young grandchildren under their wings.

Imagine their spiritual strength – for despite all their never ending hard works, the same mothers could find time for long solat (as against 'touch-and-go' ones like many busy mothers resort to nowadays – and I am no exception), for pre-dawn heartfelt zikir, and to patiently teach their own children how to perform solat, to read the Quran and some basics of Islamic teachings.

I only have two kids right now and already I feel so overwhelmed at times.
I don’t know how I am going to survive after Mak goes back and Mak is returning to Malaysia in less than a week time.
Huzaifah is as active as ever, paying little attention to his Ibu’s pleas not to do this or that.
Humaidi could not be left alone for long before he starts crying.
Humaidi’s diaper leaks also mean additional hand washing as laundry now need to be rinsed thoroughly first before being dumped in the washing machine.
Cooking had to be done in the early morning before Huzaifah wakes up.
Any writing or reading has to be done when I could find time to do so in between trying to console a wailing Humaidi, preventing Huzaifah from endangering himself with his aksi lasak, maintaining a livable home and looking like a respectable human being…

So, to console myself, I imagine the hardships that mothers in the old days had gone through.
And I quickly count my blessings as I remind myself that I am in no position to moan.
At all.