my relationship with the mother is one of love-hate. i hate it when she probes into my smoking habits. i absolutely dislike it when she has nothing but her incessant nagging when it comes to my late nights. i resent the fact that she rarely touches me in the way that mother's do when they want to comfort their sons. in fact, the last time she touched me physically was just when i came back from the 13 month stint in Brunei. absence makes the heart grow fonder. you could also counteract that with 'out of sight, out of mind' though.

there are only two things i like about the mother. her somewhat adventurous dress sense and her culinary skills. the mother is very understanding when it comes to fashion. some mothers that my friends have always complain that their sons dress 'too gay' for their liking, the same way other mothers nag their daughters when they wear something that reveals too much flesh. i'm awfully thankful that the mother never says anything when i wear a tight singlet, a New Urban Male t-shirt that scream 'gay!' or even carry a bowler bag that prolly sets off more pink alarms than a rainbow flag could. she herself dresses well and i respect her for that. sometimes when i'm pissed with the mother, i just open her wardrobe and let all her matching colors tell me that she's a good woman. and indeed, she is.

another requisite of a good woman would have to be her skills in the kitchen. all the men in the family know never to mess around with her when she's in the kitchen. she knows her spices and nutrition facts well enough to prevent us from a premature death of heart disease, diabetes, cancer or hyperlipidema. her fridge is always stocked with the essentials like fruits and meats and all the basic vegetables. there's always milk in the fridge. there will always be cornflakes in the kitchen. which is why, i crown the mother as the kitchen goddess.

if there's one meal that the mother is extremely good at preparing, it's gotta be breakfast. i'm not saying that her lunch and dinner sucks. she's good at food. and when armed with some dough, raisins and a microwave oven, the mother is a formidable opponent against the other housewives living in blk 288 of chua chu kang ave 3.

so it was effortless when she was called upon to deliver breakfast for the relatives today. the paternal relatives were so sick of having reunion lunches and dinner at their various other relatives, that they decided to gather at my home for a reunion breakfast instead. and boy was it good. the mother did almost everything herself. she baked scones and what my relatives called 'ang moh carrot cake' (it's carrot cake, literally; she baked littles cakes stuffed with bits of carrots and cinnamon in it). the brother was in charge of pancakes. there were scrambled eggs, cocktails, prata wrapped with sausages, bread.

as for me, i was in charge of washing and wiping the dishes after the cooking. i figured i was horrible at all the frying and mixing and battering that i ought to stick to something non-food related. i did try my best to partake of the mother's goodness though. but really, i wasn't in the mood to do any cooking. after last night's little adventure at St James, my body was too clogged with cigarette smoke and alcohol to think properly, let alone knead dough.

i did try to slice some tomatoes though. it was meant for garnishing purposes. but it looked as though as it survived a plane crash. ugh. the only thing i can cook is pasta. but more on that tomorrow.

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