Monday, July 20, 2015
Saturday, July 11, 2015
A Medal from Once Upon a Time
“Until a few years ago, I worked as a mother.”
I raised my eyebrows and she chuckled. “Worked? you
ask, incredulously,” she said. “Worked?
As a mother? Worked – did you say?” More chuckles, more mirth, and more
deliberation.
I waited. Surely there was more where that was coming
from.
“But of course, I agree with you. How can one ‘work’
as a mother – when there is no payment in return? Moreover, how can I be a
mother ‘until a few years ago’? A mother is a mother forever from the moment a
certain someone makes her one.
“I know what I am saying; and I know why I say so. You
may not see it the way I do; of course, you do not live the life I lived. You
would argue that the payment is the little moments of joy, the little bouts of
love that you receive now and then, and all that crap the world deceives you
with. Only a mother gets those, you say. Dads hate to hear it, but it is the
truth!
“I would not debate, for I would rather not ruin your
belief in the existence of good in the world. After all, if all mothers begin
to think of all the ingratitude they have had to face, the rejection, the
indifference and even the insults they receive – from their children as well as
the others around them – the unkind references to her parenting skills, sneaky
and direct; if all the mothers of the world decide that they cannot take it
anymore and just abandon their motherhood and leave, human race would be headed
straight down the drain and into the ocean. What will happen to the ‘reproduce
and survive’ directive from the Darwinian God? So it is an evolutionary
requirement that mothers convince themselves they are the backbone of humanity,
that they need to be selfless, that their child’s ill-behaviour is a reflection
on their parenting skills, and that if they close their eyes for a second, homo sapiens could all fall apart. It is
an evolutionary requirement that mothers kill themselves raising their kids.”
I was fascinated, to say the least. If educated is the very first adjective I
use to describe this untidy street woman, it would be far from sufficient. But,
listen to her talking as though she had some grudge against me, as though I were
the one who worked the wheels of her fate! I could see clearly that her
discontent was directed elsewhere, I just happened to be on its path.
Read More
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)