Another brand new day. Wonderful morning. Nice weather. And sleepy head…
Anyway, I am going to write a post about the great woman behind my great life: my mother!
Her name is Yustina Maria Soekartini (it’s supposed to be “Sukartini”). I call her “Mama”, some of my cousin call her “Mama Titing”, her colleagues call her “Bu Titing”, and the neighboors call her “Bu Marwi” for being my father’s wife. 🙂
My mum was born in Malang, a city in East Java. She started her life on February 20th, 1959 as the first child out of 6 kids in her family.
My mum went through her childhood – elementary school, junior high school, and special teacher-preparation school at her hometown. She moved to Jember (my hometown) to work, as an elementary school teacher. Here she built our family, along with my father. They knew each other from the church, I supposed. They got married on January 26th, 1983.
My parents lived at a rent house for several years, till the 3rd kid was born into the world. After that, we moved to our own house my father built. Until now.
My mum gave birth to 5 children.
Tanti, the eldest child – the eldest daughter.
Me, the second child.
Yuda, my 1st brother.
Indra, another brother of mine.
Ita, the youngest daughter.
My mother was smaller than me (in size). But when she got the 4th child, she was getting chubbier, and chubbier, and chubbier… But that’s okay. She once kept 5 babies inside the tummy, for God’s sake!
My mum is a typical mother.
Talkative. Very, if I may add.
She can cook. Not the best cook in the house, but still… her cooking are awesome!
A bit of control freak.
Very active woman.
As I mentioned before, she worked as a teacher. She did. And she does. But now, she is having a greater responsibility. She is a headmaster of an elementary school. And she’s taking it very seriously. She’s a dedicated woman, indeed. Once, the government made a new rule about the minimum degree a teacher should have, and it was Bachelor. So, my mum went to study in the University, taking the major in Mathematics Education.
She joins the choir at school and our church community.
She can’t drive any vehicles. Even once, she crashed our car to the garage door when my dad tried to teach her how to drive a car.
She likes to share stories. Usually, she does it with my eldest sister.
My mum and I have some similarities.
We are both workaholic.
We are both active.
We have a bachelor degree of Mathematics Education.
When we are angry, we tend to be more quiet. Activating the silent mode.
My mum is quite liberal. But she keeps the conventional part of her.
She forbid me to go out till late. I had to be home before 9 p.m.
She was disagree when I had my 1st relationship. I was still a high school student, she said.
She got angry when I chose to go to the university out of town.
She was against me when I got into a relationship with a foreigner. (She said: “You are not celebrities.”)
She was shocked when I was swearing or saying dirty words.
She complained when I wore hot-pants or any clothes showing a small part of my tummy.
She hid all of the comic books and the Nintendo when the kids were having school examination.
Well, she has her bad side. But she has the goods as well. She is someone I am proud of. The best moment was when I heard that she was promoted to be a headmaster. I was with my mum (she was visiting Yogyakarta). She didn’t say a word about this promotion. Then my sister called and told me about it. I was sooooo proud.
The moment I will never forget is when I shared stories about the relationship problem I had with my boyfriend (my ex, now). That was the very first time I talked to my mum about my personal life. It was embarrassing. But then I noticed something: my mum was not as scary as I thought before.
The other moment was when I saw her cried for the first time (and the only, till now). So, my father was going out of town for a few days – there was a seminar or something like that in Surabaya. A couple of days after he left, we got a call. It told us that my father collapsed and he was taken to the hospital. It was not a hoax. And it was sad. My mum gathered all of the kids in the living room. She asked us to pray together for my father. She led us. After praying, we saw the tears. Tough…
Whenever I go back to my hometown for holiday, my mum always ask me the menu I want for lunch and dinner. When it’s time to go back to Yogya, my mum will ask me to go shopping. And we always end up buying food supplies, daily needs, or clothes for me to bring to Yogya.
When I got a motorbike accident in 2007, my mother forced my dad to go to Yogya, to pick me up and bring me home, so that she could take care of me.
When I got another motorbike accident in October 2012, again, she forced my father to come to Yogya. This time they went by bus, arrived in Yogya on Sunday, 7 a.m. They brought me instant porridge, high calcium milk, blender machine, and special pillows to help me through the post-accident moment. And at 7 p.m. on the same day, they left. Back to Jember.
She hugs me every time we meet after a long time, and every time I have to say bye to go back to this town. We share more. And 1 sure thing: I love her more than how I felt about her during my youth.
Sometimes we are scared to get close to our parents. To share stories. To ask questions. To complain about their actions. To have a discussion about life. But, hey! I found out that it was not that bad. They may be the short-tempered kind of parents when they were dealing with the childish-us. But when you grow up and you start the talk, they are pretty much fun. And wise.
That’s all, I guess. I love my mum. I hope you do too – not loving my mum, but loving yours. :p
See you on the next posts about my sisters and brothers. :*