As I knew it will be hard to get back to mother’s rules.
The two boys are back from their vacation with their father and back from playing games and watching films, and it’s been a hard week.
And still, it is. After spending a Saturday with big boy while little boy is with his father I’m giving up – at eight o’clock in the evening.
Big boy wasn’t able to do something creative during the day. His drawing is still waiting to be finished. There are two eyes on the paper. That’s all.
He was restless, and I wasn’t capable to catch him with interesting ideas.
Okay, we went shopping and got a pump for our garden, and there is now the element water running as Feng Shui tells to do in order to calm down.
No chance, I wasn’t very successful with my big boy.
He’s now watching the film “Penguins in Madagascar” while I’m writing this.
I admit: Educating kids isn’t a picnic.
It was in my first class. I was seven. I had to do those additions: 6+7=12 or 13? 5+8=24 or 23 or 22? I was looking at my fingers, counting, recounting and I was so nervous about these figures. They were turning around in my head.
I walked to my teacher, an elderly woman, a Mademoiselle, certainly not married, with heavy glasses and a strong voice. She sat at a table, two steps above the floor. She took my sheet of calculations. Her red pencil was like a weapon. She destroyed all my nice additions – with a red dash.
I stepped back to my pupil desk – with a red face.
It has been a real fight – my figures and me. My father, a professor of mathematics, was desperate.
My mother even cried when we left after the talk with my teacher. How could I do this? Her daughter was so stupid. It was her first big crisis as a parent.
Wednesday afternoon, when my friends used to play on the street, I sat with my father repeating additions. As I couldn’t concentrate well, he closed the rolling shutters and we sat under the artificial light.
“Your daughter won’t be able to go to a high school later”, my teacher said to my father.
My father believed her and not in me.
The point of view changes when you have kids. I didn’t want to recognize for a long time because I didn’t want to feel different than people without kids.
When I didn’t have kids yet, there were two points of reference: my parents and myself.
Since I am a mother, there are three points of reference: my kids, myself and my parents.
It is so much different because there is the responsibility.
Whenever I think at myself, I’d rather remember first my kids and in a second point myself.
I don’t count anymore as it was before.
I think this is okay because it is always helpful in life when one can step aside and let other people be in the center – even when they aren’t your own kids but acquaintances, colleagues from work or friends.
There is this little smile, shy but secured because of the glass wall in-between.
It is like her parents are protecting her fragile childhood.
So, this little Indian girl can grow and ripe and getting prepared for the future.
The glass wall will be disappearing more and more. She will get into contact with classmates, teachers, neighbors, and her parent’s friends.
More and more, she will get responsible for protecting herself of displeasing things and people. Nobody will be able to do this for her.
One can hope, that her parents will provide her an elaborate instruction manual for life.
If not, I know how it feels. One has to find out so many things by oneself, and it will be an agitated journey.