Let’s face it, I am a shitty parent.
A shitty parent, who has successfully managed to to raise a boy who stands apart from the rest. The second part makes me glow with pride. The first fills me up!
Yo, my son, is a brilliant child who thinks differently, who makes connections beyond his age and who has handled life and its bizarre changes as beautifully as possible.
I would like to take credit for it, but no, its all HIM.
Ofcourse, he can be mean, angry and defiant, refusing to budge from his stand but he is also kind, naive and helpful.
He can drive you nuts with his never ending, incessant conversations but he is also undoubtedly the child you’d like to be stuck in a lift with, or stranded on an island with.
The one who comes up with the brilliant idea that will save the day.
He is the kid who will get you to rack your brain and your memory and question every possible system around you.
And instead of appreciating what I have, I have been constantly looking at him from the narrow, limited perspectives that our schools teach us to assess our kids with.
I have become the whiny, angry parent who is constantly reminding the child of what he is not.
Yo, come here, right now!
Pick up your books.
Finish your meal…Take a bite…take another bite. If you don’t finish eating in twenty minutes, no more football for you.
I am constantly threatening him with something or the other.
From the time I wake him up, to the time he goes to bed, I am playing like a radio, constantly bickering, nagging, and being so God-awful, EVEN I HATE ME!
And truthfully, no matter how fast he and I rush, we still manage to to be making no headway.
Instead, I am going to gift my child the childhood he deserves, the one I fought so hard for all the years and become the safety net, I once was.
To true parenting:
that will celebrate small successes and ignore the missteps
because he will!