I Am a Mother!

Nowadays, I and my solitude are always invaded by the mother in me. Mother of a 6 year old daughter, who keeps me on my toes .Yes, the one whom I mentioned in my earlier blog has grown up to be a pretty little butterfly who flies around me and my home spreading a lot of warmth and happiness. This rosy picture may sound like a picture perfect but when I look at the other side of the story my smile evades and my solitude is filled with the worries and anxieties of a 21st century mother. And the first question I ask myself is –“How do I protect my butterfly from the jolts of the modern world?”

When I think of myself in my childhood days, the first thing that comes to my mind is myself amidst a lot of people; Uncles, aunts, cousins, a brother, grandparents and many others who groomed me and made me what I am today in one way or the other. Knowingly or unknowingly, they have influenced me and made it much easier for my parents. But today, the responsibilities of my kid remain with me and my husband who work in a metropolitan city far from our home town. She sees us and only us for most of the time and this worries me.

After a hectic day at work, all I do is to pick her up from the day care and reach home, just in time to prepare dinner and make her do her homework. Our conversations are restricted to homework and dinner related things. Week days pass by like this and weekends in a much more hustled manner, fulfilling the needs of my house and the social circle around us. Between all this I try to pull some time to play with her or read for her or tell her stories from childhood, but the time is never enough for both of us. My daughter is growing up in-between and sometimes I realize it and sometimes I don’t.

She sometimes surprises me with questions I never dared to ask my mother. But unlike my mother who would have shied away from answering those with a mock anger, I try to answer her questions as reasonably as her age demands. But still my mind worries-Did I answer her properly?

My mom and others in my family always had the right to punish me when I was wrong. But she hates it when I raise my voice or even raise my hand in anger. Even though I don’t beat, my raising hand itself makes her feel so humiliated and traumatic. I tried to think about my reaction as a kid to my mom raising her hand-it was never a humiliated feeling which I see in her eyes. Is something wrong, I start wondering?

Our visits to hometown happens only once in 3-4 months. She loves to be with her grandparents who fulfills all her wishes and takes maximum time to be with her, which I realize I don’t. She is a very bubbly little girl who loves to explore new things like any other kid. I see her blooming and bubbling under the love and care of her grandparents. But alas, it’s for a short span and again we are back to the rut and rustle of the city.

Sometimes my solitude asks me-Is she growing up rightly? Am I giving her the value system my family gave me? Am I preparing her to deal with an uncertain and shady world? Am I able to tell her the power of discrimination? If my words don’t, are my deeds telling her?

As I sit in my solitude with all such thoughts running on my mind, like high tide and low tide falling on the sea-shore, I remembered the words of my mentor, a mother herself – “Raising a kid is like flying a kite. Sometimes, you have to let it go and sometimes you have to hold the strings tight and move it to the right direction. If you allow it to go loose with no control, it might get trapped in a tree. And getting it out of the tree would hurt both the kite and the kite flier. And if you always hold it tight, you will never let it fly high in the vast blue sky. Do it with love and passion and things will fall in place.”

The thought gives me some respite, but worry never ceases me. Afterall, I am a mother!