Supermom

It is building up to Mother’s Day again! As we are reminded by all the mushy gushy ads—a day to thank dear mummy with gifts galore! There is even on offer, an online course that will teach mothers “how to re-connect back to you, let go of mummy guilt, practice self care, gratitude and how to turn mundane tasks into magical mindful meditations. Learn how to feel connected, content and calm on your motherhood journey!”

This made me smile! If only mothers had the time and energy to take such a course! “Hey Presto! Look kids, Mummy is Connected!!”

Being a mother seems to get harder every day—you have tiger moms, helicopter moms, soccer moms, and more. I am reminded of the early phase of my own motherhood journey. We did not bear such titles, nor wear such mantles. We were simply hassled mothers!

I think back to the many years when, waking at dawn, I used to pack bags of clothes, boxes of food, and paraphernalia for the day, for two infants, and take ourselves off (the whole caboodle being dropped by husband, on a trusty scooter) to my office by 9.15 every morning. I was indeed blessed to have a crèche on the premises, but that did not excuse me from taking back, at the end of a long demanding working day, piles of soiled diapers (yes, dear ‘Pamper’ed mommies, it was before the days of disposables!)… all to be washed and dried and repacked the next morning. Coming home tired and cranky, while the children were fresh and raring to go, one barely made it through the evening of domestic chores (packing into a couple of hours an entire day’s agenda), till one collapsed with exhaustion, only to rise and shine again the following day.

Somewhere along that journey I wrote a little poem.

Superwoman

A song of those in mid-career,

who start a family.

Coping with home and job and kids,

with never a moment free.

No breathing time from dawn till night,

nor energy to take stock of life.

Burdened with the nagging guilt,

of being an inadequate housewife.

Juggling all the fronts at once,

trying to keep the balls aloft.

A precarious state it is indeed,

never sure if the battle’s won or lost.

Few realise the task it is

unless they really wear the shoes.

“Where am I going, and where is arriving?”

These are the superwoman’s true blues!

Dedicated to all those who are today, where I was yesterday! This too shall pass!

–Mamata