I am sure you expected to be one, too.
A perfect mother.
Why else have kids? To make them just as miserable as you yourself were when you were 8, 12, 16?
Sure, I am exaggerating.
But only just a little
Of course I have many happy memories – the Technicolor type.
I see romantic ads of my own life, a little girl with two long braids: the rosy images that remain after filtering your memories for 51 years.
Nothing but sunshine and happiness.
I also cherish the memory of having lots of time. Of long afternoons after school, and no computer in sight.
But my main memory is one of injustice. I hated being small and powerless.
The other thing I hated was being unpopular
Boy, was I a difficult little girl.
Impatient and talkative. Bossy without authority. Sharp of tongue.
Bored, bored, bored.
And ashamed of it all.
Back to perfect moms
Seeing as I was never a perfect child myself, however could I have expected to become a perfect mom?
I am sure I did my best. Still do.
But hey, my boys did not like drawing as much as I did, or writing. Heck, they never even read books!
They hated going to science museums, they got bored on outings.
So.
We’ve all grown up. And whatever we did, or did not do, we are OK.
We understand each other
In a way, the tables have turned.
If I behave in a way they don’t like, they correct me.
‘Mom, get away from your work. Make us dinner. Come on. Now.’
And then I will.
Make the bloody boring dinner.
Because I love them to bits.
Tags: happy memories, perfect mother
Oh so true … all I heard all week so far was ‘bored, bored, bored!” Hopefully, they’ll remember the good things about us!
Mijn kindjes zijn nog te klein om verveeld met me te zijn. Ze laten wel heel goed merken wanneer ik teveel met mijn neus in mijn iPhone zit. Een eigenschap die ik héél vervelend vind van mijn Lief, trouwens. Maar wat ik zelf volgens mij veel vaker doe dan hij. Ik vind mezelf echter niet vervelend als ik zit te iPhonen. Hoe hypocriet.
Mijn oudste begint tot mijn grote vreugde nu het tekenen leuk te vinden. (Jeuh) Heerlijk om te zien wat hij allemaal bij elkaar verzint. Waar ik vroeger heel braaf poppetjes en huisjes tekende, maakt hij snoepmachines met grote schoepen aan een rad. En daarna krast hij het zwart. Echte kunstenaar, dat kind. Ik ben benieuwd wat hij me brengt in de toekomst.