Worst or the Coolest?

If you have read my other posts then you know about the difficulties I have raising my daughter. It is not because of other complications like being single. The fact of the matter is Parenting is tough.

I tell the truth when she asks me  difficult-to-answer questions. Once she asked me how they take babies from mommies and I told her the truth (skipping the gory part of course) I even showed her my stitches when we discussed this. She was just six but she came to me to ‘talk’ to ‘know.’

I don’t worry about her health too much. Some parents freak out if their kids fall and hurt themselves. I am one of the kind that high fives her after a fall. If she is in pain I tell her what to do next.

And how do I make her do something like eating her meal or bathing? I tell her if she doesn’t do it then she can forget about her tab that day. It works like magic.

No matter how smart you think you are, or how better you think you are than your own parent or how many hours you spend reading about parenting - you are never prepared for times of struggle.

I lose my temper sometimes especially in the mornings. I yell at her or do something which I regret later. But recently I learnt a trick (actually a truth… in a weird way)

My daughter is my E.T.!

You don’t get mad at E.T. if he spills milk or refuses to eat or cries like a baby to take a bath. When she does something that upsets me I tell myself that she’s new to this planet and has just started learning ‘our ways’ This single thought has changed our relationship in a big way. Most of all it has taught me to be more patient. That’s the key to be a good parent.

So when I see her as an alien from a far off planet the things that normally makes me mad at her don’t anymore.  

 I could be wrong about all this.

But as the child learns to be, so do we about being a parent.

Life as I know it

     I am a romantic. I grew up watching English movies and fell in love with the language. It sounded beautiful and simple to me. My summer holidays were spent watching movies all night or reading novels. The rage of the Angels was my first novel. I remember the first time I went to the Central Library in my hometown, Madurai. The place made me very happy.

     I hate crowded places and the English Fiction was the most secluded, unvisited section of the library. As I walked silently amidst the tall racks of books I was the only one who could hear my heart  screaming with joy. I wish I could remember the titles of the books I read in that period. My memory sucks! But I remember this one book that moved me deeply and shook me to the core – Anne Frank’s Diary! I saw myself in her. Having the habit of keeping a journal and growing up with sisters as rivals made me think so.

     The first pain I could remember was caused by my sisters, I was not included in their circle. I remember playing in the streets or in the house all alone all the time.

The second pain was caused by the society. I was termed as the dark girl. I remember looking in mirror and seeing what the others see.

     The third pain was by my body filled with hyper hormones. I was so longing to be loved  and to be touched. I remember drinking cough syrup to put me to sleep, as the “thoughts” kept me up.

The fourth and the most painful – My marriage. I have heard nasty things that would make one want to throw up! I was strangulated, slapped, kneed on my breast, dragged by pulling my hair, arm twisted to the extent that I thought it wasgonna come off my shoulder….

And now back to square one…

So I thought!

     But you know what all those pain were not caused by others! I am so not going to be a coward to blame others for my sad life. I ‘m going to keep my head up high and change the story of my life into a happy one. Let them try to screw it up, in any which way but I am not going to give “a tiny rat’s ass” about it at all. This is me.  

     I have been so arrogant to think that I was living a horrible life, a life of feeling so lonely from a very young age, a life of seeking for love in the wrong places, a life of verbal and physical abuse as an everyday occurrence.

     I am out of the pain I was in and now it seems like I am ready to count the blessings. When Holocaust did not change the person Anne Frank was, what I went through is nothing.  My battle is no more with the others.  Every step I take now is towards keeping myself happy, without hurting others.