DSC_2693

We used to be inseparable. My first born and I. We only had each other. We spent all days together, alone, having no other company but one another. We would do everything together. Sometimes because we wanted to. Other times because there was no other option. The first three and something years of his life it was basically him and me. Out of necessity really – he needed constatnt care and who else to look after him than his mum? We never considered hiring a nanny. Grandparents were ok, once a week, for an hour or two, with mum in the other room. Because we used to be inseparable. He would not allow anyone else to look after him, to spend more time with him, without mum. Leaving him at granparents’ just to go shopping? Not an option. Staying the night anywhere without mum? Never. Because we were inseparable. He knew, consciously or not, that I am always there for him, that he can count on me no matter what. Because I am his mum.

Kindergarten was tricky. For both of us. The idea of mum leaving the kindergarten and leaving him there was at first outrageous. He got used to it. Me getting used to it took a bit more time. But we managed, we survived. Did it become easier for us to leave him at grandparents’ for a few hours? Nope. Did we manage to convince him to a sleepover? Not even close. But he did enjoy going to the kindergarten. A small success. Othertimes, we still were inseparable. Because mum didn’t mind playing childish boardgames. Mum didn’t mind getting all messy with playdough. Mum didn’t mind cleaning after fingerpainting. Mum didn’t mind singing and dancing and jumping all over the apartment. What mum would mind was playing football but he was still too little to do that…

We used to be inseparable but now… Now I am his public enemy number one… Not really sure when it started. Don’t know why. But that is what I am to him now. An enemy… The enemy…

It happened around the time he went to school, around the time we decided to have a second child, around the time he started growing up… Mum stopped being his best friend. Mum became the b**** who didn’t allow him to go out when the weather was bad, who made him do his homework and who refused to do it for him, who made him read books and write nicely in his notebooks, who didn’t buy him a mobile phone and a tablet, who made him take his allergy medicine and forced him to clean his nose, who expected him to be home on time and woke him up before 7 on weekdays, who made him tidy his room and take the rubbish out (though that in fact is what dad made him do…) Mum became the enemy…

_DSC4822

And mum still is the enemy a few years later. She has expectations. She wants to be respected. She needs to be listened to. She is so unreasonable…

Plus, mum has a second child, first a newborn who needed constatnt attention, then a toddler who needed constatnt attention, now an almost three-year-old the world around whom needs constant attention (yes, the kid is pretty self-sufficient but if I want to have anything in my house not broken, drawn on, scratched, thrown, destroyed, I still need to be vigilant…). And while mum is busy looking after the younger kid, cooking, washing, tidying or preparing for work, the first born feels deserted… And I guess, in his mind, it might be all because of his younger brother… And if and when mum has some time, she monitors the homework, schoolwork, studying… instead of playing… but someone has to and unfortunately if mum doesn’t do it, no one will… So mum is the enemy…

Some say it is normal and natural. I refuse to accept that. I fight. Which probably makes everything worse. Some think I should just give in and accept the inevitable – at some point, sometimes sooner, sometimes later, we all lose our kids… not when they are all grown up and decide to move out and live their lives… much sooner, when they are still kids, babies really, but they become independent, they don’t need us anymore, they don’t want our help and care, they feel so grown-up and self-sufficient although they are still kids. They start having their own opinions. They start making mistakes because they don’t listen to our advice anymore. They are growing, developing, maturing – I know all that… but why do they start treating us as enemies? Not much has changed since they were little babies – we still want what’s best for them, we still look out for them and have their best interest at heart. They just don’t agree…

Some time ago I lost my baby. Instead of being his friend, I am his enemy. I am going to keep on trying to change all that although right now I don’t see myself succeeding. What is even worse, I feel I am bound to go through all this one more time in a few years’ with my second child. Right now it seems so inevitable…

DSC_2781

Reklamy