I was tall for my age( I wonder where I lost that height now!sigh!); so that made me a boss among my peers. Whenever my friends came over to play at my place I used to take them to the attic ( I still miss that attic!), the only place my obssessed with cleanliness mom allowed us to play.
After ascending on the shaky wooden ladder, immediately I would announce in my bossy tone, " I want to be the mother!" acompanied by a look that said, anybody who doesn't like that idea can go out from here.
Back then, being the mom meant being the boss of the game. I would pick up my small handbag, made with paper, throw it stylishly over my little finger and order, " I'm going for shopping, you kids be here."
Kids will always be kids, some of my friends would get bored and look at with imploring glances which spelt 'can we take turns being mom?'. "Good children do what their mother says", I would begin my black mail session and make my friends help me with the chores my adult mom actually had me to do. I'm filled with guilt now when I look back. But then, my friends would scurry around and finish up whatever task was assigned to them. When the whole task was done, I would pretend to get back from my shopping spree and generously share the chocolates I always had in my school bag. The lavish throw of dairymilk always helped to cleanse whatever venom my friends might have gathered for me in their tiny hearts.
Now I am a real mom and I've realized real moms are never the boss. They are just boss for namesake. I never get to use that commanding tone I used on my friends long time ago in that dingy attic of my parents' house. In fact, even to feed them meals I've to coo and coax them to fill their bellies. If I cook veggies, " NO! I don't like this." "OK, what do you want? momo?" and the wide smile would confirm that's what's on menu. Scampering around the house, cleaning after them, cooking for them, taking care of their every needs, the chores are like never ending spiral staircase.
The day ends with the kids finally tugged in their bed. There is no mom spreading lavish amount of dairymilk for job well done. Yet! the happiness I derive now is far more real than the smiles of gratitude on my friends' face I know.
After ascending on the shaky wooden ladder, immediately I would announce in my bossy tone, " I want to be the mother!" acompanied by a look that said, anybody who doesn't like that idea can go out from here.
Back then, being the mom meant being the boss of the game. I would pick up my small handbag, made with paper, throw it stylishly over my little finger and order, " I'm going for shopping, you kids be here."
Kids will always be kids, some of my friends would get bored and look at with imploring glances which spelt 'can we take turns being mom?'. "Good children do what their mother says", I would begin my black mail session and make my friends help me with the chores my adult mom actually had me to do. I'm filled with guilt now when I look back. But then, my friends would scurry around and finish up whatever task was assigned to them. When the whole task was done, I would pretend to get back from my shopping spree and generously share the chocolates I always had in my school bag. The lavish throw of dairymilk always helped to cleanse whatever venom my friends might have gathered for me in their tiny hearts.
Now I am a real mom and I've realized real moms are never the boss. They are just boss for namesake. I never get to use that commanding tone I used on my friends long time ago in that dingy attic of my parents' house. In fact, even to feed them meals I've to coo and coax them to fill their bellies. If I cook veggies, " NO! I don't like this." "OK, what do you want? momo?" and the wide smile would confirm that's what's on menu. Scampering around the house, cleaning after them, cooking for them, taking care of their every needs, the chores are like never ending spiral staircase.
The day ends with the kids finally tugged in their bed. There is no mom spreading lavish amount of dairymilk for job well done. Yet! the happiness I derive now is far more real than the smiles of gratitude on my friends' face I know.
Nice memories from the childhood....Taking care of children is difficult and challenging task...I have experienced this while I was baby sitting my neighbors children....But being with them is also wonderful experience ..... Someday the Dairymilk will be there for all the good job you have done...Nice post, Take care
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