This must be the joy of parenthood. Having the children whine about how dreadful their lives are, how suicidal and upset they are, thanks to your concern for them. Does every single child just concentrate on what they want? What happens to those parents, who spend every second of the day, trying to bring the smallest happiness in their child’s world? Aren’t they just left alone to cry in the night, and pray for something better? What about all those lovable childhood memories. Are they just washed away with the past?
Remember, the time your father got you a doll house, in spite of your mother protesting it to be too expensive to afford. Remember, he said, “It doesn’t matter. It’s for my daughter.” What about the time, he got you toys, which were heavy on the money flow. Just those happy smiles and excitement, would suffice no matter how hard times were. Somehow, almost everyday was Christmas. You instead ran up to him after 2 days, demanding for new ones, forgetting ever to appreciate what you were given.
What about when you were ill? The time your mother sat next to your bed. Remember, she teased you about not talking? You burst into tears, thinking she was picking on you. What about those tears, which fell from her eyes, watching you cry? The way she leaned over to console you. You instead covered your face, still thinking no one cared.
What about all those times, when they just wanted to know that they were loved, and their efforts appreciated? Remember, your demands were met, without you ever having to say them? You instead sat locked away in your room, listening to angry music, not willing to talk.
What about all those times, they wanted to be there and you pushed them away? Remember, they scolded you, just so you could be a better person tomorrow. You instead labeled them as hating everything that you did, breaking the rules further, and telling your friends that they didn’t understand.
Why are there so many scenarios of screaming and shouting? Why is it so hard to listen for 10 minutes to what our parents’ say, when they heard us every second of our day? Why are we the ones to cause them pain, when they were the ones who wiped our tears away?
Strange, how we are so empathic to other people’s tears and indifferent to our parent’s; then claim to be good listeners. Strange, how we put them away, like a forgotten book on a shelf, and cherish strangers; then claim to value relations. Strange, how we are overly sensitive and defensive beings around them, but accept the hardest criticism from the entire world; then claim to take advice. Strange, how we find it easy run to the arms of people, who declare they love us then leave, but are hesitant to hug the people who were there all our lives; then claim to be committed.
No matter who walks in our lives; a friend, a lover, a spouse. No one can ever replace them. Who else would carry you in their womb, enduring all sorts of pains? When you were too weak to walk, lifting you in their arms. When you stumbled, catching you so you don’t fall. Feeding you, clothing you, teaching you, and words fall short of what they did. But we are too selfish to understand. Only when we carry a child of our own, will we comprehend the true meaning of what our parents sacrificed on our behalf.
Remember, the time your father got you a doll house, in spite of your mother protesting it to be too expensive to afford. Remember, he said, “It doesn’t matter. It’s for my daughter.” What about the time, he got you toys, which were heavy on the money flow. Just those happy smiles and excitement, would suffice no matter how hard times were. Somehow, almost everyday was Christmas. You instead ran up to him after 2 days, demanding for new ones, forgetting ever to appreciate what you were given.
What about when you were ill? The time your mother sat next to your bed. Remember, she teased you about not talking? You burst into tears, thinking she was picking on you. What about those tears, which fell from her eyes, watching you cry? The way she leaned over to console you. You instead covered your face, still thinking no one cared.
What about all those times, when they just wanted to know that they were loved, and their efforts appreciated? Remember, your demands were met, without you ever having to say them? You instead sat locked away in your room, listening to angry music, not willing to talk.
What about all those times, they wanted to be there and you pushed them away? Remember, they scolded you, just so you could be a better person tomorrow. You instead labeled them as hating everything that you did, breaking the rules further, and telling your friends that they didn’t understand.
Why are there so many scenarios of screaming and shouting? Why is it so hard to listen for 10 minutes to what our parents’ say, when they heard us every second of our day? Why are we the ones to cause them pain, when they were the ones who wiped our tears away?
Strange, how we are so empathic to other people’s tears and indifferent to our parent’s; then claim to be good listeners. Strange, how we put them away, like a forgotten book on a shelf, and cherish strangers; then claim to value relations. Strange, how we are overly sensitive and defensive beings around them, but accept the hardest criticism from the entire world; then claim to take advice. Strange, how we find it easy run to the arms of people, who declare they love us then leave, but are hesitant to hug the people who were there all our lives; then claim to be committed.
No matter who walks in our lives; a friend, a lover, a spouse. No one can ever replace them. Who else would carry you in their womb, enduring all sorts of pains? When you were too weak to walk, lifting you in their arms. When you stumbled, catching you so you don’t fall. Feeding you, clothing you, teaching you, and words fall short of what they did. But we are too selfish to understand. Only when we carry a child of our own, will we comprehend the true meaning of what our parents sacrificed on our behalf.
3 comments:
The whole parenting-kidding institute needs a profilic overhaul. In a relationship, it is always the senior partner who shapes that relationship. No matter how fashionable and prevalent this ingratitude of children is, those from more "stable" families, with an appropriate upbringing, often do not engage in this malaise.
The trouble is that this is a holy cow issue. Parents are the reps of God, and the children will be brandished to hell if they disobey.
No.
This is a human relationship which requires daily maintainance and frequent upgrades. The troubles occur usually at a communication level. The complication is that parents are holy cows and that parents and their children have an extraordinary emotional bond. When upbringing of the younger generation is taken for granted and parents are not trained - these issues will remain. Even with our own selves, we have to be careful while handling our thoughts and emotions and leading ourselves through lives. If we let ourselves just grow into something - we will, well! just grow into something.
Parents must be trained more consciously about children's upbringing. It can be a near formal education. What's the shame?
I think we very often tend to take family and parents especially for granted because we know their love for us is unconditional and that they will love us no matter what we do/say!i loved the questions and the way you have put them..simple,powerful and hitting..tx for dropping by my blog.i tried commenting on another piece i liked a lot but was unable post a comment...i dont know why!!
It is true that I never knew what my parents felt for me until I was a parent. More profoundly, I never knew how human and fallible they were ALLOWED TO BE, when I was a child and I didn't let them. To remedy that with my own kids, I apologize when I mess up and I share with them some of the ins and outs of why I parent the way that I parent. I hope that one day, they will be have demonstrable empathy. You have captured the essence of parenthood well. I am glad to have found your blog. Feel free to visit mine.
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