Happy Mother's Day, Mucha Lucha!

*poof*dust dust dust*wipe with a damp rag*Scrub with anti-bacterial detergent*

Ahhh...there we are. I found my own blog again. I just noticed how pompous my blog titile was, "Footprints of a Globetrotter". Sheesh...I am apalled! We must do some renovation here! I guess I felt I covered quite a bit of land last year when I visited 4 Southeast Asian countries courtesy of Airasia and I had the intention of using this blog to record my so-called adventures beyond the sea. However very naturally, resolutions are only meant to stay as lucid plans which will slowly but steadiy vanish into thin air. Speaking of travelling, I have no idea how my mum is so incredibly able when it comes to snagging free Airasia tickets off the internet but she can never remember how to check her Inbox. Mothers. Such a wonder they are.

I always feel a tad bit uncomfortable when Mother's Day or Father's Day swings by. Ugh. Inevitably, the church will have a cheesy presentation by the kids, declaring their love and adoration for our parents in their multicolour outfits. Guess who buys it? Not only the beaming with pride mums sitting in the front row. I'm not referring to the enthusiatic dads clicking away with their digicams right in front of the stage, obscuring everyone from the view. Nope. I'm the sucker. Me. The single 21 year old with a medical career ahead so any plans of mating can be suitably shelved for at least the next 10 years. I'd be blinking back my tears(in vain) and this overwhelming feeling(unavoidable, I tell you!) will wash over me and I'd end up feeling like smacking myself for falling for the cute itsey bitsey "I love you, Mummy and Daddy!" cheers from children who aren't even mine.

Of course, my parents are to be blamed for this uncontrolable display of emotion! I have been blesssed with, without a doubt, the best parents anyone could ask for. But today's Mother's Day so let's show you a bit of my mum.

Typically, after the kids presentation we had the sermon where a pastor came out to preach a Mother's Day sermon. In the middle of it, her sons came on stage(both around my age, ahem) and sang her a song. It was very simple, none of that poetic, read between the lines crap. So you can guess, my vision was starting to blur with tears again and then I hear my mum saying,

"You cannot marry these boys lah, they're Mama's boys."

That's my mum from you. Correction. That's only a tiny fraction of my mum. The things she says are so outrageously inappropriate but she gets away with it because we just burst out laughing till our insides hurt. If you thought I was a nutter wait till you meet my mum.

People have always commented, "You speak to your mum as if she's your friend. No respect lah you." *snorts* I say! Don't be jealous! :P There are more than one ways to be a mother. For being the only child, my mum made up for it by being my Mother, my Sister and my Best Friend. I remember when I first started playing tennis, I'd follow her to the park to just whack around on my own(Yes, I was a lil's addicted) while she had her evening exercise. But what do you know, mum offers to be my ball machine and unfortunately my ball picker. Having said that, she also ran a high risk of being bludgeoned by a very inexperienced tennis player. How? How did she do such a good job in being a mother? Does she have a manual hidden somewhere? It seems so effortless for her! I'm just gonna hand my kids over to her once they turn into rebellious, teeth-gnashing teenagers and promptly collect them back when they start gettting their paychecks.

So now it's my turn, *in an itsey bitsey voice: I love you, Mummy!*

Thank God for mothers.