There is a reason why the psychiatrist’s cliché is “Tell me about your mother”, and it’s not because they brought us into this world. Mother’s Day is coming up, and pointless as these non-holidays are (a story for another day), we will be treated to a plethora of messages from all retailers and restaurants, reminding us to remember “how your mother never forgot you”.

This will be also be particularly egregious on Facebook when we get the ubiquitous close of babies feet and a curly font stating, “Like if you have/are/know-of/are-about-to-be a great Mother!” popping up all over the newsfeed all year around, let alone close to the holiday. I count myself lucky. By the standards of social media I have an extraordinary mother, in that she’s pretty normal as parents go.

Like all of us, my mother is a product of her mother, a schoolteacher from the days when the word institution meant bars on the window and corporal punishment. Her father was also a teacher, a travel agent and a publisher of books. She was the youngest of three and lived through interesting times. Suffice to say she is highly-educated, well-travelled, rebellious and stubborn as a well-rooted tree. This translates very interestingly to how I was brought up.

Things I’ve learned from my mother

1. Success is defined only by the winner.

AKA “It doesn’t matter how well you do in school unless you’re the best in class. ” I have since learned through sitcoms that this is a recurring racial joke about Asian stereotypes. I was never the best in class.

2. If someone is complimenting you, they’re probably lying.

Cynicism I retain to this very day. Thanks mum!

3. If it’s not broken you’re fine.

My mother observed that children tend to create a great fuss with every scratch or bump, but if they’re having fun they’d never notice. Which is not to say…

4. Never underestimate the power of Lasonil.

A quick way to sort out bruises and bumps, but once it was used as a lubricant to get a kid unstuck from under a cinema seat. Which is one way of saying be prepared.

5. It’s the little details that count.

My bedroom wardrobe had this pattern on it resembling paint swatches. My mother painted the bedside lamp, curtains and desk to match the pattern, an approach she used with almost everything.

6. Just embrace the inevitable.

If you’re oversleeping she’d drop something loud near your room. If she needs something done, you may as well just do it or you’d be treated to an assault of passive aggressive comments the likes of which would force Gandhi to a buffet.

7. Make your case, but prepare to lose.

There is no point arguing with a hurricane. Mother dearest will defy logic and reorganise memory to triumph in a debate. Which has made me very deft at making my case in an argument (ask the wife). Similarly…

8. Mother knows best.

Because why say you don’t know something when you can explain it away with a well-crafted lie?

For all her faults I’ve been moulded and shaped to the person hammering at the keyboard before you. I’ve always been encouraged to read, and have had a book on my person since I had the strength to lift one.

I can turn around a few really good meals in the kitchen because I was deputised as a sous-chef for most of my childhood. I’d developed an appreciation for culture and art at a young age since I’d be taken for small trips abroad and shown the real thing in museums and theatre.

It’s the little details that count.

Happy Mother’s day.

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