The more time I spend with Willa, the more I realize how talented she really is. She has never taken professional lessons in photography, baking, cooking or make up, but she really has a knack for all those things I mentioned. Whatever pictures she takes using our low-end, low-tech digital camera, the pictures always come out beautifully. The other night, she gave me my trial make up for my upcoming engagement, and my make up turned out pretty but still natural looking. And when we bake, she's very OC, paying attention to every detail. So her cookies come out all beautiful and chewy, while mine are... er.... okay... I have my Delici brand name to look after pala. :)
But that's not why I'm writing this post.
My mom saw the trial make up Willa gave me, and decided that she will give me a trial make up too. Now, my mom's idea of make up is -- the darker, the better. So, after our make up session, I looked like I had black and blue eyelids. We asked for other people's opinions, and they all commented that my eyelids were too dark, while my face was too pale. But to my mom, I looked very pretty and flawless.
And then she hinted that she will be doing my makeup on the day of the engagement.
I panicked.
How do I say no? How do I tell her that I don't like her style? My face said it all - lips frowning, eyes all wide with fear and panic....
"Diba gusto mo yung mukhang payat na payat ang cheeks? Ayan o, lagyan natin nito....," she said, while applying something on my face with a blush brush.
"Ano ba yang nilalagay mo?" I asked. When I looked at the mirror, I had streaks of brown and black running down my cheeks. I don't know what my mom applied, but I looked like I was going to a Halloween party.
I couldn't stop it anymore. The whole time she was making me up, I was holding it in. But at that moment, I just let it all out. I let out a big laugh, and she laughed too. We laughed so hard.. and it was something we've never done before. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. Tears of panic, tears of guilt and tears of joy. Because in all our 20++ years of living together, we have never laughed about anything.... together.
I feel so guilty, because I know that she tries to be a part of the engagement / wedding, and I just won't let her. And I have all sorts of excuses for all her ideas. They're too old fashioned. They're too weird. They're too magulo. As I mentioned before, sometimes, I think I contradict her just because I want to.
I told Liza about the incident, and she made an interesting confession. She said, that while we were growing up, she always thought my parents were separated.
Huwaaaaaaaat?!?!?! Why? When? Wha?!?!?!
"Because you almost never mentioned your mom."
I didn't?!?!?
I didn't notice that I never mentioned my mom. But then, during my growing up years, my mom didn't really play a big part in my life. Until I was in college, I thought relationships between moms and daughters were supposed to be formal all the time. I guess she had wanted to be a part of my life back then, she just didn't know how to. I was so furious when I learnt that she read my journal, where I really wrote down everything I felt about her. That incident started a year of silence between us. Looking back now, I realize that she read my journal because that was the only way she knew she could get to know me.
People always talk about walls in relationships, and I never really understood what that meant, until I looked at my relationship with my mom. Somehow, even when we were talking, I knew that I was holding back. And even until now, I can't explain what it is exactly that I'm holding back. Or why I'm holding back.
Now that I am just a few years away from having children of my own (I hope), my thoughts have turned to how I would be as a mother. I had promised myself years before that the relationship I would share with my children would be very different from the one I have with my mom. Ours (my children and I) would be the relationship that you see on powdered milk commercials -- where the moms are always made up prettily, with their kids looking at them and hugging them with big smiles on their faces.
The question is, would I know how to be that type of mom?
Another question, how would I handle it if my daughter was like me? What if, even after all my efforts to bring them powdered milk in my prettiest outfit, they still end up walking slowly towards me with a guarded look in their eyes? What if they act reserved, stiff, formal and guarded, just like I did?
How would I handle it?
*sighs*
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