YOUNG VOICE
Supermoms
I saw a striking tee in a department store. At first glance, the print reminded me of Superman. But as I put on my rarely used glasses, the logo of the man of steel had undergone cosmetic enhancement with glitters and pink highlights. Beneath the logo was the printed word, “Supermom”.
A keen business tactic, I have to say. It attracted a lot of shoppers; they actually ran out of medium sizes. I was even tempted to purchase. But my wallet unfortunately said no. Supermom.
Our mothers deserve the title. They have more super powers than the Justice League, Power Rangers and the cast of Super Ingo combined. Let me enumerate some.
PREMONITION. She can give you the consequences of your decisions clearer than a Blue-ray can in high definition. She can visually scan from head-to-toe your potential boyfriend or girlfriend and can project almost accurate predictions of your future together, quicker than the PCOS machines. She shares her doubts on you joining a late-night out with not-so-close friends, she shares her fears on you impregnating someone or becoming pregnant under alcohol influences.
SPEED. How can a someone wash a dirty pile of laundry, iron overly creased clothes, cook rice and a yummy meal, and tend to a wide area of a garden and still have time to log-in on her Facebook account? That’s freakishly fast. When you left a requirement at home due to a dysfunctional things-to-do-list feature in your dilapidated cell phone/ organizer, she personally delivers it to you in school with several minutes to spare before deadline. Mind you, distance is no factor. You can live in Antarctica for all she cares, what matters to her is you passing your requirements on time.
ULTRASENSITIVE SENSES. I am still in awe at how my Nanay can anticipate my needs. Last time, she bought me three pairs of white stockings for my clinical duties just before I was going to tell her that my big toe was poking right through two pairs of my old stockings. Our mothers call us to eat lunch exactly the moment when our tummies start to grumble. Our mothers know our heartaches even if they can only hear incomprehensible weeps and sobs. Our mothers can smell our white and petty lies even if we build up the most encouraging facades. Our mothers can feel our pain, two folds in intensity actually, even if we mask it with the best analgesics.
HEALING POWERS. A rub with Efficascent oil by her soothing hands seem to stimulate normal peristalsis if troubled with gas pain. Her warm embrace and continuous tepid sponge bath can help send a high fever down. Her calm voice can aid in relaxing an asthma attack, telling you after a few puffs of your Seretide you’re going to be fine. Her firm but securing grip on your chilling hands assures you that you’re not going to bag down easily. Whatever your discomfort, no doctor’s prescription can beat a mother’s care.
I googled the requirements to become a superhero and on one message board a user said, there are two requirements to become a superhero. One, you have to have superpowers and two, you have to die a lot or at least be in near death situations.
I guess it’s settled our mothers have superpowers. The very act of them in several hours of labor and delivery for their children, facing the very risk of cutting short their own lives to enable us to wail our first cry and gasp our first breath. Or for adoptive mothers and women who are capable of loving and caring for children not their own flesh and blood. With much said, our mothers truly are worthy to be called, Supermoms.
Move over, Wonder Woman.
Step aside, Jean Grey .
Go home, Pink Ranger.
Here comes the new circle of superheroes.
The Supermoms.
Belated Happy Mother’s Day to my dearest Nanay Llane, Lola Pakha, Mamang Marit, Auntie Susan and to all mothers. You are all supermoms.
P.S. I hope everyone voted honestly yesterday.
(Reactions to reylangarcia@yahoo.com)
