As a child did Steve Jobs say his prayers before eating his food? Every time Mozart's mother said no, did he fly into a tantrum? Did Einstein have his mother drive him to a piano lesson, soccer practise, art and craft period and science tution classes, after school-hours? Is Maradona smarter than the fifth grader? Did Shakespeare's mother burn the midnight oil with him? In short were they the 'perfect child' and did their moms breathe easy, ever. May be. May be not.
Pardon me for slaughtering my mommy-image on the mother's day. But the myth of the 'perfect child' needs to evaporate, leaving behind a mom who is more salty and stingy than dutifully sweet.
Seriously, stop imagining those extra pair of hands that fuel the hallucination of do-it-all goddes. Be human to accept help. Be proud, whether or not you can juggle work, home, child, husband. Expect remuneration in terms of 'thank you, please, you are the best etc. Plan a holiday for the cook, the cleaner, the teacher and the driver inside you.
Step out of this 'perfect child and perfect mother' circle and be the careless mother who let her son daydream under the apple-tree. Or the one who let her child weave stories in ceaser's palace. Or the one who let the books get buried under the drib of the football.
Tear off that performance graph from the back of your head and free your child's future from the expectation's eclipse. Fail with him, fall with her, cry with him, learn with her. Be happy. Be normal. Be average. Be honest. After all how can you raise honesty, if you don't gift-wrap it in their genes?
Happy being yourself. Happy Mother's Day.
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