I have reached a point in my life as a mummy, where I am starting to imagine which path my eldest is likely to go down in her own life. Though she is only 6, I can see her aptitude for Gymnastics increasing, her love of maths cultivating and her dislike of all day art days at school as it isn’t following our normal schedule’. She is very unlike me in most of the above and seems to crave more gymnastics as the discipline of the sport appeals to her.She tells me how she would like to compete but whether or not she has any idea of what is involved if one chooses to pursue competitive gymnastics( not that I do)I have the struggle of how to encourage this without being pushy or how do I relate when I am not competitive at all? I also get hives if the discipline is too firm leaving little time to day dream about purple overstuffed brocade armchairs.
I say ‘but just have fun’ She says ‘but winning is fun’ . If I dont’ encourage this sporty need to win side, am I being to artsy and laid back, projecting my fear of strict regimented anything onto her ? Or, if I encourage the competitive sporty attributes how far do I go? If she is tired do I let her stay home from gymnastics or do I say’ no, you are going the best don’t stay home watching Peppa Pig?’
Trying to ge an answer from some gym clubs is tricky as they can label you as the pushy mum rather than encouraging mum or the plain ol confused what do I do with my flexible springy child mum.So , I choose to encourage her like school, say it is okay to want to win but don’t do mean things to people in order to win and tell her that we can find things we love difficult. It is okay.Isn’t it? I think it must be
It makes me sad when i read about a gold medalist or a successful actress, singer, Dr etc who is miserable with her success as she only worked herself to exhaustion to please her parents. Did they know this at the time or did they think “we only did what was best”. Some mums do push their kids for their own glory and I wont’ mention ‘Tantrums and Tiaras’ as this is a disturbing, extreme example.
Then you hear the tale of woe from the dissatisfied with life gal who suffers from unrecognised creative genius symdrome.She spends most of her days in a job she does to live but hates it. She feels she didn’t give her dream her all and therefore sits in a cubical wondering how different my life might be if only my parents had pushed me harder.
If we push too hard and they end up on drugs resenting the world or we dont’ push enough and all their hard earning go to therapy trying to work through angst due to un pursued dreams. Whatever the action what ever the outcome, is it always going to be our fault.? I want to be able to look at my daughter hear her say ‘I am happy thanks to you’
Is there an answer, can we get it right? when to we launch full on encouraging and how do we as mums know when to hold em and when to fold em?And not just laundry, strictly speaking.
For now, I will be thankful my biggest dilemma and choice to make is what to cook for dinner. I will worry about my future career and hers later.
Some mummies at the school gates always seem more mature than me-or as one of my favorite gals refers to as ‘the grown up mummies’. I am in a class of mums’ who love bright patterns, by toys based on what I want to play with, wish Top Shop sold larger sizes in cartoon t-shirts though relieved they sell Sesame Street knickers in ladies sizes.
The grown up mummies are more sophisticated but not mean or condescending nor do they think us less grown up mummies are foolish. We tweet, text, stream music, watch cartoons and when no on is looking brush our daughter’s My Little Ponies until the manes are de-tangled.
Dont’ get me wrong, we care for our kids as well as the grown up mummies and would never be so immature as to neglect them, it is more a feeling or mental age rather than standard of care. I find myself asking over and over am I grown up already? AM I now responsible for buying stain removal, condiments and making sure the kids dont’ loose mittens when I can’t keep my own in a pair. A grown up mummy would never need a dummy string for her mittens because she has nice leather gloves that she has had for years. Because she puts them back in the same spot like a grown up mummy does. I have to have several pairs in bright woolly colours for very mood or to replace the ones I have lost due to not putting them back in the same place.
A grown up mummy would never want an appliance simply because in comes in red pink or purple she would buy the one that is required and choose it according to he needs. I would justify needing a new toaster as Dualit has come out with new vibrant shades and would therefore convince my husband our current toaster was substandard.
I do envy the grown up mummies because they , I am sure they do efficient house work when the kids are at school or napping instead of Facebooking tweeting, napping due to fatigue cause by being up late watching re runs on Dave. The grown up mummies are cheerful, efficient and I dont’ think they have one enemy. I dont’ think I have enemies but rather people who would find my messy, penchant for mitten loss and superfluous appliances annoying. The grown up mummies are always on time for school pick up which I know because I see them coming home from school as I am running towards the school.
I think ugh, my mummy was a grown up mum, and she was so efficient, relaxed and the house was organised and orderly. I am in a constant state of worry that my house is too messy, I am not using my time efficiently and that I social network far more than I should thus allowing wet laundry to grow mold.
However, the other night i was watching ‘American Idol’. and for the first time thought ‘oh their mums must be so proud of them'(the good onesthe not bad) instead of my normal jealous twinge I get when I think I wished I could have been a singer.
I got weepy when they judges said yes(no am not pregnant) and thought of how wonderful it is that the kid who grew up poor is doing so well. This was an epiphany-maybe I am growing up as I mum. I did managed to find pairs for most of my socks and by sensible snacks so let us see what 2011 brings. Will I carry on the same centile for maturation as a mummy or except that it is okay to be a no so grown up mummy and embrace my crumbs and wear mix matched socks proudly.
My apron spends a large part of my day attached to me. It is tied up in all my messy meal preps, it feels the tugs of the kids wanting food, comfort or a diplomatic shriek. My apron hangs in the hub of our home-the kitchen, keeping a watchful eye on what is occurring. She hangs there patiently yet happy for the break , until she will be once again, pulled over my head and tied around my waist. This, be the reason my blog is called apron tales for if my apron could talk she would have may a tale to tell you . Some mundane, some exciting, some would make you cry, others laugh. Whatever the genre, emotion my apron would say what I do, should she have the chance.
My apron and I shall collaborate our stories and blog them as we see fit and when I have a moment to escape to my keyboard.
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