Mother Of All Moves

 I was having a chat with a mother of a 3-year-old kid recently.

“They grow up so fast,” said Pamella and 600 billion other mothers around the world.

“Yeah they do, and we grow old so fast,” said my sex bunny friend Stanley Ong who always manages to steer any conversation either toward sex or himself.

And I hope to dear God, that, in this instance — when the subject revolves around 3-year-old Ethan — it revolves around Stanley rather than sex.

Pamella Chia is a friend of Stanley’s whom I got to know during one of those parties (I actually can’t remember — Stanley has many of those parties).

I like Pam.

Pam has been a career woman all her life even after marriage. A successful banker who loves her job.

But when childbirth came, Pam’s priorities switched 180 degrees.

Suddenly, it’s all about Ethan.

Oh, I can’t bear to travel because of Ethan. I can’t stay late because of Ethan. I don’t think I can come to your party because of Ethan.

Stanley never understood this.

While his life mainly revolves around men (who are neither his son nor family), there isn’t someone (son or partner) to tie him down to such commitments that Pam has.

“May he never grow up so fast and get married and move out,” Pam quipped, already gazing into her crystal ball and launching a future curse on Ethan’s wife whom she’s likely to pick on.

“I’m glad your Ethan wants you around. It’s always good to have a kid who wants mummy rather than pushes her away,” I said with no moral authority of a dad nor son.

My partner J would always say I’m an unfilial child who doesn’t spend enough time with his own mum.

Truth be told, that’s a good thing.

And here’s where I do a Stanley and turn this topic towards me.

The disclaimer should be put out right this moment before I go on.

I do love my mum. Very much.

But sometimes, my lovely mum is also very much.

Mrs Lee is a strong willed career woman who manages everything well: Finances, upbringing of her kids, social life and family life.

But her character is, how should I put it, very overbearing.

People other than her blood relatives and family find Mrs Lee extremely entertaining. She’s funny. And always sociable and ready for gossips of all sorts. And she always has something witty to say about everything.

And I mean everything.

And when there’s nothing witty to say, she will still make comments — and when it’s comments sans humour, it gets a bit much.

Sometimes, Mrs Lee’s innocent interactions with me can get annoying.

Just a very simple example.

Mrs Lee claims she doesn’t compare her kids to anyone.

Not to me.

She dotes on Barry the most and understandably so. And I’m perfectly fine with it.

The bright legal mind of the family is dependable and always around for her.

So sometimes, when I’m home and Mrs Lee needs help — for something as simple as opening a tight jar — she would lose patience with me.

The moment she hands me the jar — and not even 20 seconds into my trying — Mrs Lee would say “cannot ah? If cannot we wait for Barry to come back then let him open lah”.

Very often, I would intentionally say, yeah, cannot. Then walk out to the garden and watch IG reels in the hot sun.

Which is why from a very young age, I found value in moving out and distancing myself from Mrs Lee.

To date, Barry is the only Lee who hasn’t flown the coop.

Our oldest sis left the country after marrying an Aussie. That was in the mid 2000s.

Second sis moved out in her 30s, spending a fortune on a beautiful apartment in River Valley.

I on the other hand, first found freedom during National Service.

Staying away from home, even though I was stuck in an isolated camp, was such a joy.

Stanley at this point reminded me that being stuck in a camp filled with lean, fit, conscripts who’re the fittest of the fits — and who are mostly half naked (top half) when in the bunk — is pure joy for any gay man.

But let me take back control of the narrative here.

I realise time away from Mrs Lee was great.

My precious weekends in my NS days were spent with appreciation. Mrs Lee would come pick me up and go somewhere for a meal with me.

During those meals, conversations were always focused. We haven’t seen each other long enough for her to wanna ask (not comment) about my life and me, hers.

This trend extended itself when I was in uni — I was many miles away from home having studied overseas.

Again, the blissful three years away from home were wonderful. I would email home once a week and would make phone calls back home twice a month (reminder: I was in uni during a time when iPhones weren’t a thing and Skype nor Zoom weren’t the norm yet).

I went home once a year (where I’d spend two months or more) and those moments were again appreciated.

When I started work in my mid-20s, I moved in to one of Mrs Lee’s empty condo units because the rental market wasn’t fantastic and she was waiting to sell it.

During the 8 months of living there alone again did lots for my sanity.

Didn’t last long though, because Mrs Lee eventually sold off the unit and I had no choice but to move back to the family home.

It was a very testing time for me.

After having had my freedom for a long period of time, everything Mrs Lee did at home, under her roof, irked me.

From her constant questions and comments about society in general to her motherly ways of wanting to cook for me regardless how late I worked till. And on days when I’m exhausted from work, she would want to chat about all things in life.

Bear in mind that Mrs Lee retired in my mid-twenties, the time I moved back home with her. So she had all the time and questions and motherly missions in the world.

I know. I’m lucky. But still…

And so, I was determined to plot my way out: Start saving hungrily such that when I was 30, I was able to buy a place of my own and move out.

It was the best decision ever, in maintaining love between my mum and me.

The keys to my then-unit wasn’t just a roof over my head. It was a sanctuary for my peace of mind. And also a party venue for all my family gatherings. Everyone in the family — including my extended family — loved coming to my place for parties.

So having my own place was a great move.

I found that much needed away-time from Mrs Lee and appreciated the much appreciated together-time with her.

I loved that momentum.

Of me going back to my childhood home on weekends for dinner, packing extra food from Mrs Lee to take home to, and having patient conversations with her because I had the entire week of me time and time back home with Mrs Lee — all of 3 to 4 hours — were all hers.

As I reflect on my journey to independence, I am glad for a few things.

That I was fortunate enough to have alone time in my youth, well enough to own my place, and the honesty and maturity to admit that being away from my mum — a move which many may frown upon — is the best thing for our relationship.

Pam went pale listening to my story and I’m sure she made a mental note to hug Ethan once she got home from this heartless friend of hers.

 

 

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Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people