so im up watching tubes, arrested by nostalgia and sentiment, the worst kind to occur so late at night, where i truly miss just going over their beds,smelling their slumber, looking so safe and peaceful, hearing their deep snores, feeling comforted and moved.
i wonder if my mom used to watch us sleep, or did she in her final moments recall our childhood, reflect on her entire 48 years of being a mother, sentimentalize the entire process, or shrug it off in resignation? i guess i'll never know
i do know that i will be that sort of mother.always seeing them as the grubs, shrubs, till they have kids of their own. who knows, i may still annoy them with my mush. to me they will always be my angel-grubs. bunny and ducky. =]
funny how a student stopped me after class to confide about his mother, well mostly about her driving him up the wall with unreasonable demands about his grades.i couldn't empathise because i am not that sort of mother nor was my own.
anyway i just listened and asked if he was the eldest to which he replied in affirmative and then i realised i did empathise because, as i intimated, i was harder on my firstborn as most are because of our expectations, or maybe also because we project so much on them because they reflect our success or failure in the same token. that insight helped him feel better.yes blame the mother.always do. that way you can do the same when you become parents and hence will never feel satisfied no matter what they do hahah ok. and funnily today's essay topic for discussion is about how parents are squarely to be blamed for how kids turn out...life imitates art much.
hugs baby.
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