On the 7th Heaven

I never understood why mothers, mine for instance, nag at no end, excluding the big question of where they got the energy to do so. It's simply tiring - a fact I can attest to. I have tried yanking once - with nobody to listen of course - just to get the feel of it.

I went around washing the dishes, doing the laundry and clearing up all the mess saying the very same words my mother whines about when she does the chores. I guess it comes with being a mother, especially when you have five little devils scampering about.

It has been said that the essence of being a woman is being a mother. I got my chance to prove my importance to the world when my cousin asked me to baby sit for her three kids who are everything but babies. They look so quiet harmless, angelic even, unless of course you have to deal with them for ten agonizing hours.

Anyway, eager to test my rehearsed mother-like speeches, I agreed to watch over the kids for a day. My mind was conditioned to be patient and compassionate, we started out just fine. They greeted me with wet smooches leaving a trail of saliva dripping down my cheeks and an ear shuttering "auntie!! Auntie!!!"

Oh dear! I couldn't have felt more like a mother on that moment. Sniffle...sniffle.

My cousin left with directions to give the children a bath, where to find things and what to cook for lunch. Then it's just me against Tarzan, Jane and mighty Spiderman.

Everything was relatively peaceful - me, trying to give them my sunniest smile, and them, trying to gauge what my smile was for.

I was giving Spiderman a good scrubbing when suddenly Jane hollered, jarring me out of my senses. Naturally, I hurried out of the bathroom expecting Frankenstein on our front door for an early morning trick or treat. And much to my chagrin, found out Tarzan, deciding to make his makeshift jungle a bit changed, grabbed the screen off the window frame.

How I am going to explain that later is but one of the problems - the war has just begun.

Everybody miraculously pacified and restrained, we all watched Cow and Chicken on TV. I could not have been more thankful to Cartoon Network and was contemplating on nominating them for a Nobel Prize when the gods of the electric cooperative decided to alter my predestined fate - there was a damn power interruption. No TV, no electric fan, one helluva trip to Sahara desert - and the surrealistic day of reckoning came to mind.

With my sole ally out of the picture, the angels from 7th heaven resorted to playing house with pillows for their humble abode. A few minutes after which, a passionate pillow fight ensued. I surprised myself of the vast number of saints I know as I prayed for dear life trapped between the Knights of the Pillow Kingdom while confetti of feathers, cottons and pillowcases filled the bedroom.

I resolutely made a promise never to give mom a scornful look again. Never again...

Lunch forgotten and the first rush of adrenaline all used up, I somehow managed to coax them to try sleeping for a change. My arms numb from doing all the fanning which an electric fan could have done with grace, I felt the beginning of a wrinkle in my face. My ultra active sweat glands would not stop excreting all the fluids out of my poor body, then hibernation despite of the heat set in.

everything came to a halt; my senses dulled, I allowed myself to drift to the magical world of dreamland where Tarzan and Cinderella fell in love with the world.

But then, life has its way of jarring you back to reality. Just when I was about to be kissed by my prince charming, I wake up to the unmistakable sound of a Neanderthal giving his vocal chords the task of a lifetime. It was Tarzan, reincarnated in the jungle of bed sheets and chairs...the scenario went on that way for another ten minutes; I was on another planet off the Milky Way galaxy as the kids - oblivious of my screaming - started World War II in an oven all over again.

I imagined time - which is never on my side (another paradox of life) jeering at my obvious helplessness. The Creed mockingly sang "Hey God, I know I am just a dot in this world, have you forgot about me?” I longed to ask God the same. I prayed (to whom it may concern) for time to fly.

The Gods must have heard my earnest pleas - for before I ludicrously acted like a wretched heroine in a soap opera, I saw my cousin around - with her round, puffed up face materialize from the portals of heaven. Nothing can be more welcoming for such site.

That day was arguably the most enlightening in all of my more than twenty years of existence. I found out why moms can be one hell of a nagger, had quick sojourn to hell, hibernated amidst the tropical heat and experienced how it's like to be a mother for a day.

Serious though, I realized that what our mothers do for us is irreplaceable. Their occasional nagging is nothing compared to the headaches we give them with our every little devious antics.

Now, now, before I make you all cry, I think I'd just give a mom a break she truly deserves when she comes (or when I go to her house) - I got this fabulous idea of doing all the household chores for a week - minus the nagging of course.