It so happened that this week I got the rare chance to spend time in the countryside, with Mom.
\nLeaving the older ones and Mister Ego in Dad\u2019s care, I snuggled My in my arms.
\nI arrived at my childhood home, where Mom pampers me 24\/7.
\nI spent my days in a six-star \u201chotel,\u201d thinking that it might not get any better than this.
\nFed. Pampered. With free hands.
\nBefore bed, \u201clulled\u201d with a massage.<\/p>\n
Today, I dashed to the store for a few missing items, and standing in line at the checkout, I couldn\u2019t help but notice the two people waiting behind me.
\nFirst, cutting through the usual store bustle, a deep male voice sounds:
\n\u201cWhich checkout did you get in line for???\u201d \u2014 the man complains.<\/p>\n
From their conversation, I gather it\u2019s a mother and her roughly 40-year-old son.
\nAs he unloads groceries from the basket his mother is holding, he grumbles:
\n\u201cWhat kind of milk did you get?\u201d
\n\u201cSince when is this bread any good?\u201d
\n\u201cAnd you chose the \u2018light\u2019 butter.
\nAnd sour cream\u2026 what the heck is this?\u201d<\/p>\n
Even though the products are clearly from a cheaper line, I honestly don\u2019t think they deserve such criticism.
\nThe elderly mother feels embarrassed as the \u201cangry\u201d man mutters loudly, and other people in line start to look around.
\nIn a calm voice, she soothes her grown-up son\u2019s tantrums: she says she\u2019ll get different products next time\u2014ones that he\u2019ll like\u2026<\/p>\n
Finally, she picks up a \u201cTupla\u201d chocolate bar from the checkout shelf and holds it out to the scowling son:
\n\u201cWill you eat this, sweetheart?\u201d \u2014 she asks in a gentle voice.
\nThe \u201clittle man\u201d mumbles something, but the chocolate stays with the groceries.
\n\u201cMaybe you\u2019ll eat it later,\u201d adds Mom.<\/p>\n
I quietly lower my eyes, holding back the urge to turn around and blurt out something rude, but one thought enters my head:
\n\u201cRespect your Mom, you pig.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stay silent. Checking my wallet, realizing I don\u2019t have a discount card, I politely ask if Mom would lend me hers.
\nShe smiles warmly and hands it over.
\nAnd inside my wallet, I see a single bill\u2014a tenner\u2014ready to buy the \u201clight\u201d products.<\/p>\n
I feel a mix of anger and sadness.
\nAs I leave, I glance back to see who paid for the groceries.
\nIt was Mom.
\nShe gave her tenner and pulled a few coins from the change compartment.<\/p>\n
\u2661____
\nMoms.
\nFor nine months, they transform into \u201cwhales.\u201d
\nOften, half of that time, they cry.
\nThe other half\u2014they befriend insomnia, heartburn that doesn\u2019t recognize rest, and running around, counting for the umpteenth time trips to the little ones.
\nThey experience the \u201ccharm\u201d of childbirth.
\nThey rock. They carry. They feed. They protect. They teach. They nurse.
\nThey forget themselves.
\nThey refuse to say \u201cit hurts,\u201d \u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d or \u201cit\u2019s too hard.\u201d
\nThey endure kindergarten transitions.
\nThey worry more than the kids do about school setbacks.<\/p>\n
Like a broken record, their minds play the same melody: \u201cMay everything go well for you,\u201d \u201cMay everything be okay for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Moms.
\nThey love.
\nWith love that cannot be measured by any existing metric.
\nMoms.
\nThey love.
\nExpecting nothing in return.
\nNo thanks. No flowers. No gifts. No sweet words.
\nEven when their unconditional love is met with loud public scolding.
\nThey can\u2026
\nOffer a chocolate bar to a son long past adolescence.
\nPerhaps spending the last of their money.<\/p>\n
I left the store with a lump in my throat, and a little anger at myself for holding back and not saying anything to Mr. \u201cTupla.\u201d<\/p>\n
Let\u2019s hug our Moms for no reason.
\nThey are truly magical.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"template":"","class_list":["post-17651","istorija","type-istorija","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija\/17651","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/istorija"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17651"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}