A toast to all mums this mothers’ day!

One hundred and seventy two days and nights. That’s how long my wife and I were in between our reunion.

For about 100 days, as I took care of our daughter, I learnt, just a little bit, what mothers go through. 

Here are some, I repeat, some, things I gleaned about the anatomy of a mother.

A mother keeps going like the Energizer bunny

Here’s one thing I knew. If our super-sensitive girl heard me saying I was tired, she would think it was her fault. So? This quiet generator kept going. And going.  Breaking pain and fatigue barriers. Never breaking down.  

Half a marathon. That’s the distance I covered. Daily.

A mother’s work is never really finished

The term, “done and dusted” isn’t in a mother’s vocabulary. She’s always doing and dusting. Holding it down. Sunup to sunset…sorry, sunup.

I appreciated Tenderoni’s household input, but being alone with Pudd’ng, I appreciated Tenderoni more. I often heard her saying that dirty utensils kept popping up from a black hole. I now know what she meant.

A mother’s work is never really finished, until she’s finished. As in RIP. 

A mother has something cooking, 24/7

I always found myself with a mental menu. I had Pudd’ng’s snacks, lunches and suppers figured out, and then, because Tenderoni was not around, the sweet little thing decided to lose her appetite for ugali.

I had to know everything like Mother Hubbard. What we were almost running out of, the maize flour that was close to expiring. Everything.

A mother sleeps last and wakes up first

Sleeping time: some minutes past midnight. Waking up time: quarter to 4am. This is because apart from taking care of baby girl, there were also deadlines to meet, and dreams to chase.

Each morning, after taking Pudd’ng to school, and returning home to work and work, I would fall asleep on the sofa right after taking breakfast. Yeah, I said work and work. As in work-at-home dad and housework.

A mother puts her offspring first

Cue in Jaheim’s ode, 'Put That Woman First'. Now, instead of woman, put baby girl. Tweak the lyrics. Take out the sensual bits. Replace them with filial lyrics.

Sacrifice. That’s what it’s all about. Giving up stuff so your kid can have the best. Moving heaven and earth so your child can move ahead. I did that. Still doing some. God is my witness.

A mother nurtures her offspring’s aspirations

“Dah-dee?” one morning Pudd’ng chimed as we hurried to school. “I love you because you teach me English. When I grow up I want to be like you.”

That was sweet. And I made her up the ante. “Thanks, dear. I want you to be better than me, because I know you can. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Nowadays, baby girl comes to tell me how she’s doing long-form narratives. “Dah-dee? Today in my composition I wrote eight paragraphs, each with 12 lines.”

A mother is the domestic detective

In our house, it was a criminal offence to eat in a food kiosk. No matter how many packets of gum I chewed to kill the aroma, after breaking this rule, mama always smelled the mutura or mutharigo in my breath before I even knocked the door.

Mama was only doing what a mama’s supposed to do. Know what’s up with her offspring.

I don’t have my mama’s sharp nose. With Pudd’ng, I learnt to do a little digging. Sometimes it was an “alien” eraser in her school bag, or juice spilled on her uniform. Hey, knowledge is power. More knowledge, more power. 

A mother’s word is as good as God’s

Parental authority is a big deal, that’s why the fifth commandment goes as far as promising “annual dividends”, that is, longevity, if one is obedient to their parents.

I’m only human. I goof. Spectacularly. Like when a matatu tout forgot to ask me for my fare. I told myself he was taking one comeuppance for the team, for all the trash they dish us sometimes. Pudd’ng saw it all. 

Days later, conscience got the better of me, and I told Pudd’ng I was wrong. It was only 10 bob, but still. My unspoken, yet loud, word, that the tout deserved to be robbed, may serve to warp Pudd’ng’s future (mis)deeds. Clarity begins at home.

I salute all you mothers, mothers-to-be and dads-playing-mom who are holding it down.

You are this nation’s pivot. I’m toasting to all of you this Mother’s Day.