Mother and daughter

The negotiations over the documents were tedious, as one might expect, and long. During the last half of meeting, just as I was musing whether or not to kick my colleague in the shin to stop him from making yet another reference to Tasmania (I mean, I know you're born there mate, but really, in a meeting do we have to discuss it?) my mobile rang so I ran out in a haste to answer it. It was Liddle Sis.
"Are you busy?" she asked.
"Of course I'm busy, you've just dragged me out of a meeting. This had better be good," I said.
"Oh. Sorry. It's just that Mum wants to give you a suit she bought for you. We'll come over in the evening."
"Mum did what? Oh never mind, I'll speak to you later, I have to go."
I love it that my mother comes over to see me when I am staying downtown in Seoul, but I also dread it, because there is no telling what she will make me take back. The maternal love in our family runs through gigantic boxes of Chinese medicine, other herbal remedies and random t-shirts which mater thinks will look 'cute' on me.

The hotel I was staying in in Seoul was plush and the room was big. Which was a good thing, because once my mother, Liddle Sis and ultrabioman came in with six travel bags I had to sit on the ottoman at the foot of the bed to avoid being overrun. My mother was beaming.
"This is the suit, you must try it. It is too mature a style for Liddle Sis but it'll suit you perfectly. Try it."
"Mother, I am perfectly capable of buying my own clothes. I don't need you to buy me a suit."
"Just try it."
So I tried it. Unfortunately for my argument, the suit fitted me perfectly and it was probably something I would have picked myself. Darn. I say darn not because I am not happy I have a new suit, but because the fact that the suit fits and I will wear it will be the go-ahead signal for my mother to carry on buying things for me as she does. It's nice but it is so ridiculous that she spends so much effort on me when I'm not a teenager and haven't been for quite some time now. I noticed a large blue bag.
"What's that?"
"Those are peaches. I thought you'd like to have them. I brought you some rice cake too in case you got hungry."
"But we're going out to dinner, aren't we?"
"Just try it."
So I ended up peeling the peach while my mother cut up the rice cake. My sisters were lolling about on the sofa watching cable tv and arguing over the channels. But there were more bags. My mother picked one particularly bulky one and said,
"This is a summer quilt. You said you felt it was too hot at night. So I got you a double quilt and a single quilt."
"Mum, I don't need any more quilts. How am I going to carry back all this stuff? I only brought my pull-along. Hey you two, why didn't you stop Mum from buying all this stuff?"
Liddle Sis and ultrabioman stopped their wrangling over the remote to snort at my outburst.
"Do you think Mum would listen to us?"
"It's not like you don't take the stuff she brings - you always end up taking the stuff back anyway."
"That's not the point," I said, but my mother was pulling out other things from the other bags.
"This is a handbag, you said you needed a new one. I bought it really cheaply but it looks very nice, doesn't it? And this is medicine for your gastro enteritis, these are vitamin supplements, these are sandals..." She started unpacking them all so that the various bottles started to overflow off the desk. I felt I needed to regain my status as an adult, that an attempt to regain it had to be made by a clear remonstration against all this paraphernalia of maternal love. So I said,
"Stop it there. I don't want the sandals." These sandals have protruding bits on the soles which make them instruments of torture.
"But they're good for your feet. It helps the circulation."
"Mum, they cut off circulation. I can't walk for the pain. I'm not taking the sandals."
"Oh, all right then. I also bought a document holder. I noticed you were just carrying around your files because you didn't have a bag."

Of course, I ended up taking it all, but at least I didn't have to bring back the sandals. I spent a good half an hour trying to work out how to pack everything. In the morning, my boss and my other colleague asked me if I was planning to start an import/export business, but they kindly helped me carry the five bags I had on top of my pull-along. The flight attendants didn't even blink, they patiently put in each bag into the overhead compartments. I have them all piled up next to my desk now - much to the amusement of my colleagues, who have kindly pointed out that if I leave the quilts in the office I can sleep here.