Losing Grip
Blessed Monday! A return to peace and control at work. I very nearly lost it yesterday evening, despite a relatively happy weekend, maybe because it was just too packed-full of good times for everyone. I had simply reached my limit. And like a child who has missed a critical nap, I just snapped. I was thoroughly engrossed in watching Akeelah and the Bee on DVD as 7 o'clock came around; the kids (and probably myself included) were hypoglycemic and I was in no mood to warm-up dinner, let alone face the usual struggle of hand-feeding the little guys. Worse even, the movie was approaching the climatic National Bee and I was about to miss the whole thing to prepare dinner. So finally, while trying to watch the finals out of the corner of my eye from the kitchen, and while trying to feed Benji something he wasn't too hot about, which caused him great distress to the point of tears, I just started cursing like my dad in a traffic jam. Bob and I really hold our tongues with bad language in general, so part of me felt very guilty for letting it out right there in front of the kids.
I have come to realize that as much as I have been thankful to my parents for encouraging me to have a professional career and supporting me through training, I am also somewhat resentful that I was never prepared for this life of "hardship" as a working mother of three. In some ways, my childhood was too easy. I only had to worry about being a student. I never had to work and study, I barely even had any chores that I can remember. I never had to cook or babysit. And all of a sudden, I am expected to do it all. It's just not fair.
My mom, on the other hand, had to single-handedly raise her younger brothers and sister, feed the animals, cook the meals, and keep the house, while upholding her number one status in the class -- all at the tender age of eleven. Clearly, her early struggles made raising her own family in the U.S. a piece of cake. But my coddled upbringing has left me ill-equipped to handle the same pressures. I have been reduced to this whiny ingrate who crumbles at the slightest show of willfulness from her 3 year old.
I have come to realize that as much as I have been thankful to my parents for encouraging me to have a professional career and supporting me through training, I am also somewhat resentful that I was never prepared for this life of "hardship" as a working mother of three. In some ways, my childhood was too easy. I only had to worry about being a student. I never had to work and study, I barely even had any chores that I can remember. I never had to cook or babysit. And all of a sudden,
My mom, on the other hand, had to single-handedly raise her younger brothers and sister, feed the animals, cook the meals, and keep the house, while upholding her number one status in the class -- all at the tender age of eleven. Clearly, her early struggles made raising her own family in the U.S. a piece of cake. But my coddled upbringing has left me ill-equipped to handle the same pressures. I have been reduced to this whiny ingrate who crumbles at the slightest show of willfulness from her 3 year old.
posted by Ting at 6:38 PM
1 Comments:
Your dad curses in bad traffic? ;-)
You are not alone, in language outbursts or in feeling spoiled when it comes to the hardships of parenting. I see what other moms go through (sleeping difficulties, health issues, preemie births) and I'm ashamed sometimes that I can't always handle my kids. But no matter what your situation, we will always have bad moments and learn from them.
Post a Comment
<< Home