It's back to blog again. Sounds something like a B&B. But it isn't. I couldn't even cook breakfast for a mouse as it is. Which next to a piano concerto should be easy, buy isn't. I have taken after dad's side of the family, all brilliant people who somehow do not know how to do any chore whatsoever. I can't either, all the more so because if I say that, then it gets ready by someone else. It's a family thing, and I've inherited it in my genes, so it's not my fault! So there. I guess I am the laziest homemaker there ever has been, I am just not very domesticated. I don't care if my plates are of fine bone china or from Tal-Lira, what interests me is what's on them anyway. And most goodies do not come on a plate anyway, they come all wrapped up in hard-to-tear plastic. As if that is going to stop me from opening it anyway, if it promises to have chocolate inside.
I'm thinking about my life and heritage as it is today. There have been times where I loved being me, other times when I hated being me and would have been happier being anybody, just not me. Then there's middle age, which seems to be creeping up on me. I am supposed to have all grown up, but I haven't. Except for one thing. I'd just thought it happened to older people, but seems I'm old enough. Every inch of growing up has been so hard, so I thought I'd sail right through my 30s, since 30 seemed to be a grand old age anyway. Not so. I have still not learnt the ropes of decision making. I can never decide, all I know is I want this and that. But now I've been hit with the child-bug. I have been asking myself why, how, what, and what the $**%? Thought I was so cool, I would never be the one to push babies in prams, or to hold screaming little kids during tantrums. Because that was always for older people. And anyway, what the hell did I know about kids? Nothing. Almost 4 years into my teaching post, I realise that things have changed and that the things have changed me a lot. I used to cringe if anybody so much as asked me to hold a baby for her. It's so different now. I tie up so many shoelaces a day, I plait so many hairstyles which have lost their elastic band, I pick up so many kids who have fallen, I will gladly clean up the mess and put a grand elastoplast on cuts, nicks and bruises. (somehow elastoplast is like a trophy for kids, and stops the crying), those are the easy bits. Then there's the more difficult. Like what to do if someone decides he's going to call you mummy, and asks you if you have kids, to which I reply in the negative, to which the child will be so eager and automatically think then he can come home to you. I have no solution for that. It would take an emotional elastoplast, but alas those cannot be bought. The only thing which soothes such a child is human contact, but then again teachers are scared of touching kids because they could be held for child abuse. That much is true. But if someone is going to report that I have hugged a child, wiped away some tears, and caressed his tear stricken face, then go ahead and do it. If that is child abuse, then I really don't care. Drag me to the courts, I don't care either. Cite data protection act something, I don't give a hoot either. Some kids never get human contact, and that is abuse. I can say I had a good childhood, but was always wondering where I came from. I resembled nobody, still do. And I have a twin for Christ's sake who looks nothing like me either. There was a time when I secretly thought I must have been adopted, but the twin thing stops that short. So there was me in a normal family unit, and still feeling so not in the unit. Imagine what a child who knows he has been abandoned thinks in his little mind. Isn't that the worst form of child abuse? There was also a time when I thought that being childless was fine because no child would want me as his mother. God how wrong I was on that one. It so happens that sometimes the best judging comes from children. There is a child out there who pleads with me to take him home. And although I am doing everything possible to at least be able to visit him, take him out... I am not the natural mother anyway. Why do laws have to make it so difficult. It's so easy to dump your baby wherever, yet it is so difficult to lift that baby out of the dumps. I am not a very good God lover sometimes, yet I want my chance too. Perhaps it is out of selfishness on my own part, but if it makes one child happy and not give up on his future, then isn't my selfishness somehow forgiven? I don't know. Will soon know. For now I'm letting go, and letting God.
I'm thinking about my life and heritage as it is today. There have been times where I loved being me, other times when I hated being me and would have been happier being anybody, just not me. Then there's middle age, which seems to be creeping up on me. I am supposed to have all grown up, but I haven't. Except for one thing. I'd just thought it happened to older people, but seems I'm old enough. Every inch of growing up has been so hard, so I thought I'd sail right through my 30s, since 30 seemed to be a grand old age anyway. Not so. I have still not learnt the ropes of decision making. I can never decide, all I know is I want this and that. But now I've been hit with the child-bug. I have been asking myself why, how, what, and what the $**%? Thought I was so cool, I would never be the one to push babies in prams, or to hold screaming little kids during tantrums. Because that was always for older people. And anyway, what the hell did I know about kids? Nothing. Almost 4 years into my teaching post, I realise that things have changed and that the things have changed me a lot. I used to cringe if anybody so much as asked me to hold a baby for her. It's so different now. I tie up so many shoelaces a day, I plait so many hairstyles which have lost their elastic band, I pick up so many kids who have fallen, I will gladly clean up the mess and put a grand elastoplast on cuts, nicks and bruises. (somehow elastoplast is like a trophy for kids, and stops the crying), those are the easy bits. Then there's the more difficult. Like what to do if someone decides he's going to call you mummy, and asks you if you have kids, to which I reply in the negative, to which the child will be so eager and automatically think then he can come home to you. I have no solution for that. It would take an emotional elastoplast, but alas those cannot be bought. The only thing which soothes such a child is human contact, but then again teachers are scared of touching kids because they could be held for child abuse. That much is true. But if someone is going to report that I have hugged a child, wiped away some tears, and caressed his tear stricken face, then go ahead and do it. If that is child abuse, then I really don't care. Drag me to the courts, I don't care either. Cite data protection act something, I don't give a hoot either. Some kids never get human contact, and that is abuse. I can say I had a good childhood, but was always wondering where I came from. I resembled nobody, still do. And I have a twin for Christ's sake who looks nothing like me either. There was a time when I secretly thought I must have been adopted, but the twin thing stops that short. So there was me in a normal family unit, and still feeling so not in the unit. Imagine what a child who knows he has been abandoned thinks in his little mind. Isn't that the worst form of child abuse? There was also a time when I thought that being childless was fine because no child would want me as his mother. God how wrong I was on that one. It so happens that sometimes the best judging comes from children. There is a child out there who pleads with me to take him home. And although I am doing everything possible to at least be able to visit him, take him out... I am not the natural mother anyway. Why do laws have to make it so difficult. It's so easy to dump your baby wherever, yet it is so difficult to lift that baby out of the dumps. I am not a very good God lover sometimes, yet I want my chance too. Perhaps it is out of selfishness on my own part, but if it makes one child happy and not give up on his future, then isn't my selfishness somehow forgiven? I don't know. Will soon know. For now I'm letting go, and letting God.
