What is it like to be a mother

 

‘What is it like to be a mother, ma?’

Asked my teenage daughter once.

I look at her, I smile at her,

Say, ‘being a mother is a lot of fun’.

 

The young girl who sits beside me,

Has grown into a beautiful, charming lady.

Responsible she is, mature enough,

I prefer to tell her the truth, and take the plunge.

 

I sit on the chair, and she, by my feet,

I start to tell her the story, the story which started off sweet.

Yet as time progressed and years passed by a flick,

I learnt a lot of lessons, and never to quick.

 

The reality of life is so much different,

The truth which I know is unknown to many.

For being a mother, is something I truly enjoy,

But every good story has a twisted ploy.

 

Being a mother means a lot of sacrifices,

From having sleepless nights, to making a lot of choices.

We don’t always have things our own way. Never.

It’s either gaining one thing or the other.

 

We also face rifts; rifts with our children,

Differences in opinion, tastes and even in tradition.

For you prefer a thing based on its popularity,

Whereas the only thing I have on my mind, is your safety.

 

Being a mother has varied roles.

For I juggle between a wife, a mother and also a good host.

Though I have numerous things on my mind in a minute,

When it comes to being my children’s mother, it rises above all other limits.

 

Being a mother also has its own share of pain,

For you do lose something when you have a gain.

The child I so lovingly sheltered from her very young,

Had now grown into a beautiful teenager who thinks her mother is no fun.

 

From sharing secrets, to laughing at the silliest of jokes,

Life was always pleasant; was what you thought.

Yet, as time flies, without the slightest worry,

Seeing you change put me in agony.

 

The arguments we have, the tears we shed,

Those sleepless nights, we hardly shared bread.

Those painful moments when you cursed me under your breath,

All of it left me truly perplexed.

 

I did not show much of my feelings to you,

I know, you have your own share of worries.

But do at least once turn back to see,

Where our faults lay in our miseries.

 

Being a mother, also means putting her family before her,

From cooking meals they desire, to teaching them to learn.

Many a time, you would have disliked much of my preferences,

But remember dear, those were only the days, I was writhing in pain on my periods.

 

Sacrifices come along with being a mother,

It’s something we have got to accept, one thing or the other.

Putting your concerns before mine was no fun for me,

But seeing you smile was my biggest treat.

 

I did feel upset, I admit,

Those days when fights were unbearable.

But I knew you would grow, and grow you did,

For one fine day I saw you transform into a lady from a kid.

 

But dear, being a mother, above all is a lot of fun,

From shedding a few tears to dancing under the sun.

Mistakes have happened in the past and mistakes will continue to happen,

But the thought that you have matured, gives me a lot of satisfaction.

 

Don’t cry dear, for all those days that you have wronged me,

Those were phases of life; phases that were meant to be.

I know you think I am your angel now, and your angel will I always be,

But one fine day, many years later, your daughter too will have an angel to see.