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July 06, 2015

Raising Mom

Am I an authoritative figure? I have no doubts that I am not. I don't push people. But at home, I have to be. I try to be, rather. My two sons do not particularly have any interest in doing things in an orderly manner. Every ten minutes there is a war cry or a long loud wail. Unfailingly, one will take away something valuable belonging to the other. I believe that amidst the strife there is immense fun for them. They thrive on this conflict. They are laying down the bricks for the memory wall. One day, they are going to sit, arms around each other and laugh at each silly fight.

They teach me so many things. I never really referred to any parenting guide, so I do not know if I fall into the buddy parenting bracket. But this I know, our relationship is based on give and take. I take a lot more than I give. They exposed the many gaping holes in my character. I wanted to be a better person for them. I have successfully earned the good cook title, in the extended family circle. I wouldn't have cooked but for them. Them alone. They taught me time management, which my boss was getting tired of, putting on my appraisal comments.

What do I teach them? I wonder, anything of value? I help them with the text books and the writing.
I constantly push them, to learn from what they around them, to improvise. I like to imagine I taught them to channel their energies to creative ends. We have spent many happy mornings in the terrace of our home, painting on the wall. Any picture we imagined. I have seen volcanoes, dragons, cool cars and enchanted trees, appearing on that unglamorous half wall.
They have taught me all about cars. From the ones in the racing games to the one listed in Top Gear magazines. I have been lectured on the different engine types of European cars, customised for speed. We have laughed at the Greg Heffely's misfortunes. (That's the Wimpy Kid series)

Mornings are the worst. They don't want to wake up. After they are up, they go about in the slowest motion possible. That's when Chocos cheer them up. I even pack it in their snack box at times. On holidays, we bake together. My elder one believes I can't bake a good cake without him.

Of all the moments we have nurtured each other, my fondest is the time my elder one decided it was time for us to cycle together. I hadn't touched a cycle in ten thousand years, I was afraid of looking like a total idiot. Something that I didn't want particularly. Especially in front of him. We set out, I was wobbly, obviously. He rode slow but helped me with encouraging words. He laughed when I braked hard and put my feet down, to stop the cycle, but he didn't make fun of my fear. I was ready to wind up, but he prodded me on. He kept saying that the more you practice, the easier it gets.
My own words, coming right back at me. So I had to persevere. After some time, I started to relax and enjoy the two wheeled wonder.

It felt good. The cutting through cool air. The sense of adventure. I felt free, like a child, with no worries about the day's menu or mounting work. I am grateful that he likes to share his happy times and favourite activities with me. There is still a lot of growing for me to do.

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