Last week was devastating in that quiet- hazard- creeping up on you sort of way; by the weekend all I wanted was to delve into the quiet and simple home stuff.
This morning as we are getting ready to leave, he hurts his right toe. Inadvertently a wail and deluge of tears with that shutting away the world thing he does. At 3.5 years, naturally he should be running to mumma with everything; especially if hurt.
This one. Doesn't!
He shuts you out, screams with the pain, lashes but shuts me out.
That’s very grown up. That’s very me. And, that is both heartbreaking.
Did I give birth to a teenager?
And, the battle ensues… that spit of a blood across his toenail, and his red face heart breaking grief; my attempts to look at the damages with my heart in my mouth and on-the-fly ways of calming him down.. It soon snowballs into full scale meltdown. And, am this close to losing my head.
But, I don’t!
Lessons of parenthood – PATIENCE AT ALL COST!
Do I miss? All the time. Do I still carry on the vow? All the time.
A quick message to his day care and my work later; we decide to stay put.
Cajoling with apple pies and mango shakes. An ointment, a glass of turmeric milk and a 5ml combiflam later; the limping is now a game!
Disney videos while I navigate my emails. Chocolate cookies while I chessboard my calendar.
There was a time, I couldn't pull this off. A sleep deprived, constantly alert to other human beings needs before my own, time!!
A time when this blog here would be ignored for so long, it would feel dead.
Now, he is pretty much on his own, ohh I am still needed like a subset, but pretty much we have our own orbits with points congruent, with points colliding and with points same.
Sometimes I feel my postpartum convoluted itself into this motherhood paranoia of extreme.
There is never enough time, there is worst waiting to happen, and perhaps am the worst mum alive and the list goes on.
As parents we are all neurotic. Falling in love hard. Failing to live up to our own projected parents selves.
And, as parents we become records, history keepers… of first bicycle and first big fall, first draw of blood and first camera /guitar in hand; the first time we would flunk and the first time we would win. The first love and the heartbreak.
All over again!
A coalesced combo of guilt and pride.
That’s what a parent's heart looks like!
Copyright © Neerja Yadav