Ok, it’s confirmed, I am not taking home the best parent award this year. Maybe not even next year..shucks…! And how does that make me feel..? I donno, I wasn’t expecting the award anyway but I'm sure it would be nice to be in the running though..
There I go, rambling again.. Ok, here’s the thing, being a parent used to be much easier, much more enjoyable, it was fun and nourished my soul a whole lot. Now the boys are getting bigger and I've been a parent for what a good 13 years plus, it should get easier right..? Wrong, it gets tougher. A lot tougher.
The bigger setback is this - things seem to be getting more and more like a breeze for my other half. Him, of all people…I mean, no offence here SI. I know he is a pretty nice guy yadayadayada, but I never thought he would find this manageable.. Hello… wasn’t it moi who religiously pored over all those parenting books and magazines?! Call me delusional, but I thought I had it all worked out, I thought I was going to be this fantastic parent, who would know how to tackle every parenting issue with ease.. What was I thinking…! This ride is gettin’ a tad bumpy now.. my other limb, he laughs a little when I get edgy.. take it easy dear, he says.. And do I appreciate his kind words? Yea, of course I do but frankly, oh God no…I must remind myself at this juncture that I am writing not in my pink Strawberry Shortcake diary with a lock outside but on this stupid blog – aah, what the heck.. deep down inside I guess I feel a wee bit threatened.. Ok, ok, I admit, I shall shamelessly admit, call me a bad parent, maybe I let my egotistical side get in the way.. Aargh….admitting warts and faults like this is awful, painful and gives you a downright sh***y feeling.
This is obviously a spillover of my previous entry, you know about that 13 yr old brat who lives under the same roof I call home.. Oh, actually, he happens to be my son.. can a mother call her son a brat..? Or will that qualify me as the worst mother in the history of motherhood..? Ok, I will try to be a bit more civil about it, my son, my dearest firstborn, the one I love so very much, he drives me up the wall……and I can’t get through to him. And worse, SI thinks I am not trying hard enough, or I'm not listening and I make life difficult for the boys.. Double aaarghh…..
Ok, I’m going to take a deep breath now…,breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…..and say bismillah.. aaah, that from my precious lil angel, he always says that, when we are angry we must say bismillah…ok, sweetie, mummy will say bismillah, right now..
Seriously, it’s not like I consciously make a decision to be this terrible mother who enjoys sessions of ranting like a crazy woman, Well, who does right..Sometimes I just talk and talk and then nag a lil maybe..then when I get tired, and all worked up, I get upset and then the crazy woman drops by for a visit…It is not me, I swear, maybe my evil twin..Trust me, I am really nice…and not the least bit crazy. Honest.
Ok la, enough rambling. I accept the facts.
Fact 1 - The kids are growing up and they are developing their own personalities
Fact 2 – I should learn to be their friends and not breathe fire each time they get on my nerves. Fact 3 – It doesn’t hurt to laugh more like them, laughing is good facial exercise.
Fact 4 – I am not taking home the best parent award for the next couple of years…
btw….does anyone know how I can get rid of this crazy woman…I think I see her peeping thru that door…
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