I have been quiet
for too long and am even embarrassed to be back. There are so many things
happening in my life, good thingsJ, that I’m struggling to keep my head above
water. I shall be writing all about these things, but need a little more
research and a little more time to put them together. What got me to write at
this very moment is my nagging cousin. She follows this blog (I’m grateful that
she does), and is frustrated at my long hiatus. Trust me cousin, it frustrated
me too!
The topic for
today was motivated by a conversation I just had with some friends regarding
children and how sometimes they tend to favour one parent over the other. When
I was a child, well I’m still my parents’ child so let me say as a younger
child, I can’t say I really favoured one parent over the other. I, however,
somehow chose one parent over the other depending on what I wanted from them.
If I wanted a good conversation, I’d go to my father who has amazing story-telling
skills. I hope he can still write his first book at close to 69 years of age.
If I wanted money, I’d go to my mother. She didn’t tell too many stories
because she was busy thinking about making money or just being practical with
her crafts. I even helped her with her crafts, and that’s one of the things
that bonded us. When I look back at my childhood, I remember conversations I
had with my father, and things I did with my mother. I think Rudairo will craft
too because she always asks me to teach her. I’ll post my crafts here someday
soon.
Back to the
events that led to this post. I allowed my 4-year-old daughter to buy a can of
Coca Cola (coke), against my better judgment. We never buy soft drinks for home
because my children have enough sugar in their system to last them a lifetime;
they don’t need to add more. Since it’s a weekend, coupled with the fact that
she hasn’t had a soft drink since Christmas, I indulged her. She slept all afternoon, and when she woke up
around 5pm, she wanted to drink her coke. I told her she could only drink it
tomorrow because supper was almost ready. Around 8 she drank her coke. Because
she was high on the coke, she couldn’t go to sleep, even though her system was
telling her it’s past bed time. I made coffee to help me stay awake and do some
work. I used my cup (everyone has their own cup here). My daughter said, “Mum,
you must never use daddy’s cup. You should always use your own.” I don’t know
why she had to say that because I was using mine anyway. I said, “I’ll use your
daddy’s cup if I want to.” Immediately the floodgates opened. She wailed loudly
and continued remonstrating about how I shouldn’t use her dad’s cup. When
she got tired of crying, she went to sleep. At some point tonight I had to snap at her
after she cut my conversation with her dad short saying, “Mom, you need to be
quiet when I’m talking to dad!” The audacity! If I had said that to my mom, she
would have slapped that smart mouth.
As a small baby
of about 6 months, she would come to me for milk, cuddles and to dance to Trace
Urban beats. When the father came home, she suddenly became this chatterbox she
never was in the absence of her dad. She would blabber away for several minutes
without stopping until I started to feel sorry for her, thinking gosh her
little lungs must be struggling with that long speech.
I was chatting to
some friends about how my 12-year-old son is more attached to me rather than
his dad. It was during that conversation that I began to appreciate just how
affectionate he is. When I’m in the kitchen cooking, he comes to sit there and
keep me company. Because he has autism, he struggles to come up with
interesting topics for discussion, but he will be present, repeating the same
stories he has told me before and rerunning plans for his April, August and
December holidays for the umpteenth time. Even when I’m in the bathroom, he
sits just outside the door, or he’ll go to the window outside so that we can
continue our conversations. When I was pregnant with the sister, I had severe
morning sickness and would throw up every morning without fail. As soon as I
woke up, I’d go and sit in the bathroom until the bout was over. Victor would
sit with me without ever getting revolted by the throwing up business. The
father would quickly make himself scarce to avoid even hearing me vomit. Victor
would even look in the bowl and say, “Mummy there’s a green vegetable that just
came out.”
Rudairo loves trinkets, she is a very girly girl. Each time I buy her something, the first thing she says after the thank yous is, "Daddy is going to be so happy for me."
When I have to
travel for some time, my son gets quite miserable while my daughter really
couldn’t care less. She only starts to cry when I actually depart, but Victor
worries as soon as he hears I shall leave at some point. I thought daughters
were supposed to be mums’ best friends. That hasn’t been witnessed here! She
has her moments when she’s extremely affectionate to me, but that’s usually
when the dad isn’t around or when she just feels girls should do things
together. I’m quite fascinated by that. I’m particularly thrilled when she goes
to the bathroom for Number 2. She always shouts, “Daddy, come and wipe me!”
that always somehow happens during meal times. The dad, at those moments,
doesn’t look so proud to be the chosen one. And at those moments, my cheeks
hurt from smiling. But when she has a
nightmare or needs food, she calls me. So essentially I’m the beast of burden
as far as she is concerned.
I’m sure if one
went to my parents, they would separately have things to say about how I
related with them as a small child, maybe even now. One day someone repeated
slander about me, and the first person I thought of calling was my father.
Maybe my daughter takes after me after all.
So what do you
think your parents would say, or would have said (if they are no longer with
us)? How do you feel you related with them as a kid?
