Silly Niang's prose

My mother is seventy years old and has four children. She is of medium height. She has had short hair as long as I can remember. In her words, short hair is convenient for you to comb your hair and saves shampoo. Poor living conditions in the early years, coupled with suffering and involvement, made my mother skinny. Now she is old, but she is somewhat rich. When I was illiterate, my mother also attended literacy classes for a few days. I memorized a few words with few strokes, such as "1234, heaven, earth, sun, moon", and I can also associate the meanings of phrases composed of other unknown words from those simple words engraved in my mind. Occasionally, just like a blind cat meets a mouse, I can understand the general meaning of a sentence or two. My mother "thinks she is smart" and says, "No matter how stupid I am, I know what I want to say after that word." Sometimes I see my mother holding a calendar page by page, rummaging through the auspicious days of the zodiac, and feel that her mother's "self-study" is a great "inspirational model" for the illiterate generation.

Mother is kind-hearted and gives people a warm smile before they wait to speak. Anyone who has met her mother will say, "This old lady has a good heart and a good temper. At first glance, she is a kind-hearted person with an excellent temper. " When I was a child, I visited my uncle's house and saw photos of my mother when she was young. The girl in the photo, just like the word "flower" in her name, is pure and beautiful, as graceful as a lotus fairy.

It is said that people with delicate eyes must be ingenious. But my dignified and beautiful mother is surprisingly "stupid"

( 1)

I now use a needle and thread dustpan to make needle and thread, which my grandmother taught my mother to knit when she was a child. The dustpan is made of the skins of red and yellow sorghum stalks, which are processed by cutting, soaking and scraping. People go to the slope to cut grass and carry crops. Many people use this big cage. Young girls, young wives and even old ladies who have nothing to do use it to make kang mats, rice baskets, large dustpans for clothes, and various small things that are now called "handicrafts". Mom looks at other people's gadgets and always asks grandma to teach her how to do it. This needle duster is Niang's first needlework. In order to weave beautiful words and patterns on a needle and thread dustpan with a diameter of only a few inches, the processed sorghum skin has to be soaked and chopped into strips several millimeters wide. In this process alone, Niang's hand doesn't know how many blood cuts have been made by sorghum skin as thin as a blade.

Grandma teaches hard, but mother studies harder. However, my mother is a little clumsy. The programming sequence that my grandmother just taught me was dazzled by the thin strips soon, and the programming program that I just memorized became a mess in my mind. On the dustpan cover, especially where there are words and flowers, my mother made up several wrong programs. My mother looked at the lines she had worked so hard to make up and was reluctant to tear them down. She was afraid that grandma would know and scold her until the dustpan was finished, and she didn't dare to tell her.

My mother proudly told me that my grandmother was not mistaken.

Looking at my mother who was secretly glad to mention this matter many years later, I think it is impossible for a smart grandmother not to see the typo on the dustpan, but she just can't bear to hurt her fragile self-esteem.

This kind of needle and thread, which contains the feelings of two generations, later came to a place where mother could take root again with dowry and have children. The mother sewed the hard years with the needle and thread in the dustpan, and raised the children in the mending life.

Our sisters have grown up and their living conditions have improved. There are fewer and fewer people who are female celebrities, and the mother who was not good at female celebrities has completely given up this aspect. At that time, she worked hard to study the needle and thread dustpan, which was also a place to collect odds and ends. It was placed in a corner of the cabinet and was covered with dust. I have married someone, and I feel that the value of dustpan has been buried. It was a pity and even more distressing, so I asked my mother for it and took over the needlework in her hand.

In the third year of marriage, I had a daughter. When my daughter was half a year old, it was in the cold winter, and I took my child to my neighbor's house. In a few words, I was psychologically unbalanced: "My child's grandmother just made a small cotton-padded jacket. Look how soft this cloth is ... "

I learned to sew before, so I made my daughter's little cotton-padded jacket according to the mold of other people's old clothes. Listening to the show-off in the neighbor's voice, the little jealousy in my heart began to sound. So, I asked my mother to make a cotton-padded coat for my half-year-old daughter.

My mother heard this request and pushed me away in a shy tone: "I haven't done it for many years, and I almost forgot ... this child is too young, and I'm not sure about his size." I didn't do any of your second sister's children, but all of them were done by their grandmother ... Besides, you can't do it yourself ... "

I don't care about my mother's business, so I used the killer: "Grandma does what grandma wants, and grandma does what grandma wants." Our neighbor's children's grandmothers have done it, can't you do it all? The child came out with light on his face. People will say, look at the clever hands of children's grandmothers and make cotton-padded jackets for them. It really hurts the child. Besides, I didn't ask how well it was done. I can put it on, it won't freeze ... "

I finally persuaded my mother with this golden talk. Mother promised to make a cotton-padded coat for the child.

It didn't take long for my mother to send the cotton-padded clothes by tricycle. When I opened my luggage excitedly, it was like being hit by someone, which poured cold water on my enthusiasm. The cotton-padded jacket is not bad. Maybe it will be put on in two years, but cotton trousers are hard to say. The style of sling was used many years ago. Pants are not only long, but also fat, like two buckets.

"Niang ah, this cotton trousers zha so fat, don't wear close-fitting, rub the net. Why are you wearing this? "

Mom looked disapprovingly: "It's easy to get fat. It is easier for children to wear clothes that stretch their arms and kick their legs. If the wind is too strong, tie up your trouser legs. "

This crazy dizzy in my heart: "Mom, do you think this is an early year to tie the trouser legs for an old lady with little feet?"

Mom smiled awkwardly and said, wear it for two years. I said, after two years, cotton trousers will be short. Mom said, if it's short, connect it to the trouser leg.

I didn't think I could communicate directly with my mother, so I pulled a long face and kept silent. Seeing that I was unhappy, my mother sighed lightly and said, "In the early years, those who lacked food and clothing had to make a cotton-padded jacket for several years, so they had to make it big and fat. If it is very short, they will be connected again ... When I was a child, I followed your grandparents to hide from the little devils and heard the village entrance' Bang!' As soon as the gun goes off, you have to get up quickly, grab the cotton trousers on your feet and put them on at once. The cotton trousers made by your grandmother are fatter than this, so they are easy to wear! Put on your pants and live with your grandparents all your life ... "

At that time, I always dismissed the past things that my mother often mentioned, and even had a disdain. I always feel that my mother's vision and way of doing things can't keep up with the development of the times. Later, I gradually realized that the "clumsiness" in Mother and Daughter was partly due to the hidden pain in my heart and the panic I escaped from in my childhood.

(2)

When Niang got married, the house she lived in earlier belonged to her grandmother's family. After the separation, grandma cynically advised her mother to move out. My father and mother spent a spring making adobe houses with mud and straw, and then built three adobe houses and wings with courtyard walls. The house is in front of grandma's house. When you open the back window, you can see grandma's room directly.

I always thought that my fear of heights was inherited from my father's genes, because my father was most afraid of climbing walls and going to the house. Adobe houses can't stand the rain, so they have to repair their walls and roofs every year. Dad can't do this job. Before climbing the two-story ladder, his legs began to tremble and his hands and feet became numb. This kind of house repair work naturally falls on Niang. I really don't believe it. How can a fragile mother have such great perseverance to climb the roof on a trembling ladder to repair the leaking hole? Perhaps in a certain dilemma, people can have unlimited potential to generate.

Mom also learned her own frying pan platform. It was she and her father who connected the wok table with the kang in the hall. The children rolling and frolicking on the kang, the smoke from the stove mouth, and the life of the family in the cauldron, boil, boil, boil out the ups and downs of the family, the children boil one by one, and the parents boil the temples white.

Mom is not very talkative, but she won't say anything at the scene. When she meets a stranger, she only smiles and greets others. Mother's kindness, simplicity, generosity and forbearance have never caused any contradiction with her neighbors, but she happened to meet a rather difficult mother-in-law. Grandma was too poisoned by feudal ideas. Maybe there is a stubborn willfulness in her bones. She has always been tough on her new wife, always condescending, often attacking her mother for no reason, plus some harsh words. Once, my mother was cooking in the house with her little brother who was only a few months old. Smoke filled the whole room, making my brother cry. Grandma, who is just across the wall, is standing at the door of her room, tiptoeing at my back window, with one hand akimbo and one finger pointing, making use of the topic, being cynical and swearing. Hua Song, whose mother was full of grievances, wept silently. Many years later, my mother always talked about what her grandmother had done, and said in an extremely helpless tone, "I really had enough of your grandmother's anger in those years!" " "

Hearing this, we were filled with indignation and stamped our feet with anger by Niang's clumsy tongue: "Then why don't you talk back?" Won't you call her Japanese after what she did to you? You're not too stupid to scold, are you? "

Mom said that when we got married, grandma said that you can't be angry with the old man. Grandma is an elder, no matter how bad she is. Grandma has always instilled in her mother the idea that it is a blessing to suffer. When my mother said this, she always taught our sisters: "When we get married in the future, we should be kind to other people's old people." Our generation has not caught up with the good times. You must be kind to the elderly! "

Hey, mom, where are you stupid? That's very kind of you!

(3)

In my life, the means of transportation that I walk on both feet when I travel, except the ox cart I caught earlier, is the pedal tricycle later.

Grandpa's family used to be well-off, and his mother was in the hands of grandparents, and she hardly suffered anything. I have lived a hard life with my father since I married him. From an ignorant little girl, I gradually honed into a good style in the field of crops, pulling cattle, plowing and sowing, and picking everything. I still remember when I was a child, my mother was driving an ox cart to pull crops. We sat on an ox cart full of crops, tied with thick ropes, shivering in the afterglow of the sunset and blowing a cool breeze home. I estimate that riding an ox cart is definitely bigger and thousands of times more wonderful than those eight!

Cattle carts are also the only means of transportation for mothers to get in and out of the fields, not on foot.

At that time, every household basically had one or two big-wheeled bicycles. In the fields far away from the village, many people go by bike. When she wasn't driving the ox cart, she carried the straw cage on her back and walked to the fields to work. If she goes back to her parents' home or goes to the market, she will push a cart and tie a rattan basket with her children in it. I asked my mother why she didn't learn to ride a bike. Mom said, stupid, you can't learn.

I don't believe it. I don't believe my mother is really as stupid as she says.

Later, it was Niang who explained the reason: "I learned several times and my face was blue." At that time, there was so much business in the family land. If I fall out again, who will do those businesses? You still can't drink the northwest wind? "

Because of many concerns, my mother finally gave up her enthusiasm for learning bicycles. She would rather drive an ox cart or walk than take any more risks. Mother is not timid and clumsy, but has a caring heart.

When my father died, my mother was less than sixty years old. As soon as my father left, I felt that the pillar of my family collapsed instantly. Mother is also much older. The cow was sold, the cart was scrapped and ruined by the wind and rain. Finally, it was cut into firewood and burned. Use my brother's tractor when harvesting crops. In order to travel conveniently, my mother bought a pedal tricycle. With this tricycle, Niang gradually came out of the grief of losing her loved ones. She rode a tricycle to work in the fields, collected firewood, went to the market, and watched her daughter and little nephew marry in a foreign village. With this effort, Niang's vision is broadened and her life is full of new strength.

Tricycle has been with my mother for more than ten years. The car is old, and the mother is old. She is too old to stare at it. At this time, in order to meet the needs of social development, various styles and models of electric vehicles came into being. Electric tricycle has become the best means of transportation for the new generation of elderly people. Those old men and women went in and out one by one, riding electric tricycles, which was very convenient and fast. We children also "encouraged" our mother to buy her a tricycle like this. Niang is also heartbroken for this kind of thing that can walk very fast without effort. She often says, "Your aunt just bought this. She is not afraid of the headwind. It runs very fast! " "

Just as we were discussing what electric tricycle to buy for my mother, she suddenly changed her mind and said she didn't want anything that didn't work hard. We were puzzled and repeatedly introduced the benefits of electric cars to my mother: "riding it, we can go to other villages to go to the market and visit our nieces and nephews." Leave if you want, and go home if you want. How convenient! This electric one is similar to a pedal. You can ride the pedal, and of course you can ride this electric one. Just master the speed and brakes. "

Mother hesitated, hesitated: "I am old and my reaction is slow." I can't ride this ... I can't learn anyway. "

Looking at Niang's stubbornness, we really hate iron not to produce: "How can we know if we can't learn without trying?"

Mother bowed her head and sighed: "If you can't ride such an expensive thing, aren't you blind?" ..... The aunt in front of you rode her electric car the other day and forgot to brake when she turned the corner. Too soon. One fell into the ditch and got a black eye. Fortunately, I didn't hurt my bones. I lay on the kang for several days ... You said, I am old enough. If I break my arm and leg again, I'll suffer for myself. Isn't it just for you to wait on me? Everyone with a family is very busy and must take care of this old woman ... forget it, don't learn that, don't look for that trouble. "

Although we criticize mother for worrying too much, we know that we will always be in her heart. She is afraid of causing us trouble. My mother's dream of learning to drive is tied down again.

(4)

In my mind, my mother likes to eat cakes and pancakes. Put a few and a half bricks evenly in the shade, put a hammer, a few handfuls of day lilies, and a pot of noodles with moderate hardness and no fermentation. While speaking, the smoke filled the room, the rolling pin and spatula controlled the cake, and the cake flew up and down in an orderly way. In a short time, thin, unbreakable and fragrant cakes were made one by one in the pancake making skills that mother was familiar with. Soon, a thick stack was piled on the panel.

Pancakes are Niang's best cooking skill-and the only good cook we recognize. Take a handful of day lilies and light them. The fire can't be big or small. When the fire is big, the cake will burn. When the fire is small, the bread will become hard and taste bad if it is burnt for a long time. At the same time of ignition, the prepared dough (about the size of a palm) is rolled on the panel into a semi-finished product. After rolling, sprinkle a thin layer of dry flour on it, roll it slowly along one side with a rolling pin, and then gently spread it on the hammer. Before the cake is ready, you will launch the next semi-finished product-and the fire under the hazelnut will not stop from beginning to end. Thin bread, a lot of large and small bubbles, instantly on the hot pot. At this time, we should keep circling, and the turn is almost over. The other side bubbles, and the bread is basically cooked. Just because of uneven heating, the periphery of the bread is not easy to cook. The periphery of the bread should be stacked one by one and baked for a while. Burning fire, rolling cakes, turning cakes, turning cakes and folding cakes, so many complicated processes, it is conceivable that a cake maker, even if he is familiar with it, will be busy around. But I usually look at my silly mother, but I have made the pancake craft almost lifelike. This is really surprising.

And I, for pancakes, always belong to the category of staying at a respectful distance from sb. It's really a headache just to roll the dough cakes. The dough that seems to be "clever and docile" in Niang's hands at ordinary times has become so difficult to tame in my hands. Either you don't roll it here, or you roll it thin there, or you forget to sprinkle flour. The freshly rolled bread is stuck together again, so I have to pull it out with my hands. I pulled out a hole like the eyes of bread and waited for a while.

My mother looked at me, so busy that my forehead was sweating and I was in a hurry, which made a mess of the bread. She joked, "if you do this, you have to hit a rolling pin in grandma's hand a few times, or you won't learn." I also joked, "Mom, you said you were stupid enough to make people laugh at everything. Why are pancakes made so well? "

Mom smiled and said, "Just do more." Then, Niang began to talk about her past: "At that time, I was forced by your grandmother to learn pancakes. I remember the first time I stirred flour. It was not pure white flour at that time. It is mixed with dried sweet potato powder or stick powder. I'm not sure about its softness and hardness. When the flour is hard, I will add more water. As a result, I mixed a big pot. Your grandmother is watching me. If the rolling pin is not good, just hit me on the back with a rolling pin. Ouch, it hurts! Your grandmother said that if you can't make burritos and cook, you'll never get married! "

Hearing this, I couldn't help laughing: "Is learning pancakes for marriage?"

Mother sighed, "I can't cook, no one can cook for you, and I can't go hungry?" What mom said is true. At that time, there were no steamed bread houses and refrigerators, and things went bad easily in summer. Meals such as steamed bread can only be kept for two days, and steamed bread is steamed in a cauldron almost every other day. Because I am busy with farm work, I often have no time to make noodles. Go home at noon, if you are not full, use the pancake technique. Pancakes don't need to be fermented, just mix them with cold water. As long as the seeds are hot, the cakes are cooked quickly, and often the cakes here are eaten as soon as they are cooked. Therefore, summer is the day when a family eats the most cakes.

I teased my mother: "Then you can also hit my hand, otherwise, I'm afraid I can't learn."

Mother smiled again: "Where are you willing to fight?" Now that the society is good, I can marry you without cooking! "

Later, many times, my mother rolled a cake and I lit a fire for her. As a result, the cake was either burnt by the fire or put out. I quickly squatted down and blew with my mouth. Thick smoke came out from under the cigarette end, which made my mother cry and scolded me: "Get up, get up!" " I'd better do it myself, it will make a mess! "

I'm very happy, but I haven't learned my mother's pancake skills after all.

Now with the electric baking pan, tobacco has gradually faded out of the kitchens of various families. Because of malnutrition, mother's teeth began to fall off before she was 50, and when she was 50, her mouth was full. Slowly, the gums shrank, and the dentures dared not chew on those things that felt laborious. For cake, my mother's favorite, she also gave up slowly in the helplessness of dentures.

I often see cicadas singing in my dreams, under the shade of trees, my mother is in the smoke, holding a rolling pin and cakes flying up and down. Delicious cakes are piled on the panel one by one. We sisters rush headlong into action, grab a cake, spread shredded potatoes dipped in vinegar on the cake, roll it up, take a big bite, and vegetable juice flows out along the gap of the cake and down the wrist to the elbow. ...

Now, even in rural areas, cooking is basically electrified. But mother still insisted on burning firewood. In her words, burning firewood is both energy-saving and safe. I still remember the days when she lived in my second sister's house many years ago. On one occasion, the second sister didn't come back because of something, and only her mother and her six or seven-year-old niece were at home. Mother tried to turn on the gas stove according to the method taught by the second sister, and planned to cook and order food for the children. When the wok exploded, the oil and chopped green onion in the wok were also fried because the gas fire was a little too strong. Mother panicked when she watched the pot suddenly catch fire. She threw away the shovel, jumped aside and screamed. Still calm, the little niece ran into the kitchen and turned off the gas stove. Although there was a near miss, she was too scared to cook with liquefied gas again. Even if mother has this cooker in her old house, she won't use it easily. Only when our sister comes home will she use what her mother thinks is a "time bomb".

Just say mom, why are you so stupid? If the frying pan catches fire again, turn off the valve and cover the pot. It's that simple. This has been said hundreds of times. Why can't you remember? Mother refuted us with her "truth": "When you are old, you will panic when you meet anything. What should I do if my old house is destroyed by this thing again? This is where I retire! Or firewood insurance. I won't bother, put out the fire, cover it with a lid, and everything will be fine. "

I went back to my mother's house a few days ago and called several times as soon as I stepped into the yard. My mom didn't answer. I thought my mother had gone to play in front of her parents' house again, muttering, "The old lady didn't lock the door when she went out." Just then, my mother came out of the other room, and we were all startled. Mother laughed and scolded, "the child came in and didn't talk." He was shocked. "

"Mom, I shouted several times when I entered the yard. You are really deaf! "

Niangs are chatting and laughing at home. I don't think it's time for lunch. Mom took out a zucchini, eggs and tomatoes and said that they would be fried at noon today. While washing vegetables, I said, just the two of us can't eat so much. Let's fry one, the leftovers will be bad next time.

The little "career" in my mother's heart began again: "Every time your aunt and them come to visit the grave, they always say that your cooking is delicious. Last time your aunt came to taste leftovers, she said it was delicious. Stir-fry more, and keep the rest for hot food at night, so that I don't have to fry again. "

I was amused by Niang's "little vanity": "Niang, you are not only stupid, but now you have another problem, laziness."

Mother giggled proudly and her eyes narrowed into a crescent moon: "I am old and don't want to move." It's hard to come back after raising you so big, so I won't let you do more for me? "

Hey, my stupid old woman!