Sobre ser mãe. A minha. E eu.
as mães são ambiciosas:
A minha mãe fazia um bolo todos os fins de semana. Às vezes tentava escondê-lo para não o comermos antes da hora e um dia esqueceu-se de um dentro do armário da sala durante semanas.
as mães são benevolentes:
Cá em casa fazemos um bolo ao fim de semana, e há taças com resto de massa pra rapar, e às vezes comemo-lo ainda quente.
as mães são madrugadoras:
A minha mãe levantava-se ao domingo às tantas da manhã e fazia arroz de polvo ou de carne com legumes e quando eu acordava já estava a panela embrulhada num cobertor, para não arrefecer, pronta para o almoço de um dia passado no campo.
as mães são aventureiras:
Os nossos pic nics acontecem sem planeamento nem aviso prévio, sem destino certo - às vezes é na praia, outras no rio, outras no jardim ao pé de casa - e é sempre sandes de vê-lá-o-que-é-que-há-no-frigorifico ou de compra-se-qualquer-coisa-no-caminho, fruta, iogurtes e bolachas. E batatas fritas.
as mães são generosas:
A minha mãe fez-nos, durante anos, camisolas de malha quentinhas, às riscas de cores indiferenciadas ou motivos geometricos e estética duvidosa - se bem que falando de anos 70/80 o duvidoso é perfeitamente explicável.
Mas na minha adolescência foi promovida a costureira-heroína e partiu umas quantas agulhas da máquina, ao fazer-me umas calças jardineiras perfeitas, em ganga, com botões metálicos e tudo, que ninguém acreditava terem sido feitas em casa.
as mães são impacientes:
Eu consegui tricotar um cachecol e meia camisola. Faço uns remendos muito bonitos para recuperar roupa com manchas teimosas.
as mães são determinadas:
A minha mãe tem o dom de conseguir plantar tudo o que lhe apetece, e passear no quintal dela ou visitar o jardim botânico é quase a mesma coisa.
as mães são distraídas:
Na minha varanda só sobrevivem os cactos e mesmo assim se forem resistentes.
mãe é mãe:
A minha mãe ensinou-nos com palavras mas principalmente com actos. Nunca baixou os braços perante as dificudades, e foram tantas. Nem sempre nos entendemos, mas nunca nos chateamos por muito tempo. Ela errou, talvez. Eu errei, talvez. Acertámos. Corrigimos. Respeitámos.
Ser mãe é acordar e ter a certeza que esta é a melhor parte de nós.
Obrigada Mãe. Obrigada filhas.
About being a mother. Mine. And me.
Mothers can be ambitious.
My mother used to bake a cake every weekend. Sometimes she tried to hide it from us and one day she forgot one in a closet for weeks.
Mothers can be benevolent.
In my home we bake a cake every weekend and there’s always bowls with batter leftovers to lick, and sometimes we don’t wait until it cool down to eat it.
Mothers can be early risers
My mother used to wake up really early at Sundays to cook a vegetable and meat rise so when we woke up the pan would be already wrapped in a blanket to keep it warm for our lunch in the countryside.
Mothers can be adventurous
Our picnics happens without any previous plans or warnings, and no certain destination either – sometimes we pick the beach, others the river, others the park near home – the lunch is like whatever-is-on-the-fridge sandwiches or we-can-buy-something-on-the-way, fruit, yogurts and cookies. And chips for sure.
Mothers can be generous
My mother would knit for us, year after year, wool sweaters, with colored stripes or geometrical figures in that questionable-kind-of-style-but-perfectly-explainable 80’s fashion.
But in my teenage years my mother was promoted to super hero by making me a pair of classic overalls jeans, with metallic buttons and all, that no one ever believed were home made.
Mothers can be impatient
I manage to knit a scarf and half a sweater so far. But I can make cute patches to recycle clothes with stubborn stains.
Mothers can be determinate
My mother has a gift for gardening and walking through her backyard is like visiting the National Botanical Garden.
Mothers can be distracted
In my balcony only cactus survives. The tough ones.
A mother is a mother.
My mom taught us with words but mostly with actions. She never gave up facing life’s obstacles, even when they were too many. We didn’t always get along in harmony but we never keep upset for a long time. She was wrong, sometimes, maybe. I was wrong, sometimes, maybe. We fix it. We respect it.
Being a mother is waking up knowing for sure that is the best part of ourselves.
About being a mother. Mine. And me.
Mothers can be ambitious.
My mother used to bake a cake every weekend. Sometimes she tried to hide it from us and one day she forgot one in a closet for weeks.
Mothers can be benevolent.
In my home we bake a cake every weekend and there’s always bowls with batter leftovers to lick, and sometimes we don’t wait until it cool down to eat it.
Mothers can be early risers
My mother used to wake up really early at Sundays to cook a vegetable and meat rise so when we woke up the pan would be already wrapped in a blanket to keep it warm for our lunch in the countryside.
Mothers can be adventurous
Our picnics happens without any previous plans or warnings, and no certain destination either – sometimes we pick the beach, others the river, others the park near home – the lunch is like whatever-is-on-the-fridge sandwiches or we-can-buy-something-on-the-way, fruit, yogurts and cookies. And chips for sure.
Mothers can be generous
My mother would knit for us, year after year, wool sweaters, with colored stripes or geometrical figures in that questionable-kind-of-style-but-perfectly-explainable 80’s fashion.
But in my teenage years my mother was promoted to super hero by making me a pair of classic overalls jeans, with metallic buttons and all, that no one ever believed were home made.
Mothers can be impatient
I manage to knit a scarf and half a sweater so far. But I can make cute patches to recycle clothes with stubborn stains.
Mothers can be determinate
My mother has a gift for gardening and walking through her backyard is like visiting the National Botanical Garden.
Mothers can be distracted
In my balcony only cactus survives. The tough ones.
A mother is a mother.
My mom taught us with words but mostly with actions. She never gave up facing life’s obstacles, even when they were too many. We didn’t always get along in harmony but we never keep upset for a long time. She was wrong, sometimes, maybe. I was wrong, sometimes, maybe. We fix it. We respect it.
Being a mother is waking up knowing for sure that is the best part of ourselves.
Thank
you mom. Thank you daughters
Muito bonito!!!
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