Its 4 am and I come about to, two small hands
searching for me. Slowly, he inches towards me and curls up. Intuitive, warm,
animal like half-here and half in nowhere; half dreaming, half-dream-kissing! He
is full of love. This three year old man of mine!
He likes to huddle together with his grandparents,
he likes group hugs, he kisses top of our heads and very softly and unabashedly
he whispers ‘love you, mum’, while we are in bed! That special whisper just for
me!
And, all the running around and about, all the
fatigue and frustrations, all the fun and frolic, even the occasional tantrums
and time-outs... worth THIS while! This sweet smelling, mussed up hair, bleary
eyed, chipped toothed smile of a curled up toddler ball!
He overwhelms me!
With his fast talking, incomprehensible toddler
words, and his surprises-me full
sentences, his understanding of complex feelings, the now naughtiness and now that
far away look in his eyes, his need for me and his need for independence. All
of it!
And, I have to rein my thoughts in, of the ‘should’
sword dangling all the time! I should have done better as a mother, I should have done this and I
should have done that, I should perhaps spend more time playing and I should
get him more stuff, give him more love – if that was even possible! The accusatory
self weighing the implications of falling short of expectations; the pointed
look over the tortoise shell rim glasses of my septuagenarian self!
This is what being a mother teaches me again and
again. That we will fall short and rise up again. That we are beings with
spirits bigger than our skin and breath and bones. Being his mother has
grounded me.
This boy of mine! He is abundant in his warmth and
contentment, his laughter, his tenderness, and in his loud, boisterous ways. He
yells and waves his arms when he talks, as much a Bihari-Punjabi as he can
possibly be; yet he is shy and empathetic in equal measure: slow to warm to
those he doesn’t know, and always ready with a kiss and a heartfelt apology
when things go amiss and he’s to blame with a lilting “Nirvaan’s a duffer!”
This is Nirvaan: a goofball of contradictions. At
3; he is shy & loud. Brave + hesitant. He is determined to fill his own
water glass, or climb stone walls or tables; yet needs help with hand wash and
shoes or putting on his pants (or how about none at all!)
He is at the delightful age of matchbox car love
right now. And, videos of Power Rangers, Waybuloo and Dora equally! Tinker Bell
being the quintessential girlfriend!
He’s content to play by himself for long stretches
of time, driving his cars about on their imaginary journeys. He also loves
building snug forts out of couch cushions and quilts to hide in, and boxes of
any size suitable to tuck himself into. The world is small and big for him at
once; and he’s at it’s center still: sturdy, delighted, charming, stubborn.
He is my love, my heartbeat, my soul. My son!
Happy Birthday, Autumn Sunshine!
Copyright © Neerja Yadav
