Children come in all sizes, shapes, temperaments. I have two of my own which is two too many, but I will make sure I let them know how much they should appreciate me when they grow a little older. Having kids is easy, bringing them us is difficult. Footing the bill for their varied needs is getting more difficult as I even write this column. But that is not my gripe. There are financial planners for that kind of a problem.
When I brought my first born son home, I thought he was just so precious. He absolutely was and still is precious, that is if I can find him under all the clutter he has accumulated in his room. It’s just a little difference in opinions (his and mine) in terms of nomenclature – he calls it a room, I’ve called it many things over the years but I never thought of calling it a room. It used to be a room before the said Homo Sapien inhabited it. I’ve called it a disgrace, I called it a garbage can, I’ve called it a nuclear wasteland and I’ve also called it a cause for a heart seizure. But it has had “precious” little effect on my “precious” little offspring. His room to this day is cluttered and overflowing out into the corridor. Again, not the only gripe I have but one of my many gripes as a parent.
When I brought my first son home, I thought he had such beautiful and intelligent eyes. He was going to be the next Albert Einstein, well not really but at least he was going to be a model student. He still has beautiful and intelligent eyes, especially long curvy and thick eyelashes, the kinds females would die for. But the same adjective cannot be used for his brain or his concentration. He gets distracted 72 times in a single minute that only has 60 seconds. C’mon anyone should be able to stay on one topic for a span of at least a couple of seconds. Not him.
“Sweetheart, you’re late for your music class, can you please hurry up!” I scream every Saturday at 10:00 am. Finally by 10:30, Mozart finally makes an appearance sans his music book which is essential to attend the music class. Another ten minutes pass by when the entire family frantically searches for the music book which had been thoughtlessly cast away after the previous music class. We find it finally and now we are ready to set off for the music class. But Mozart here has yet another brilliant idea.
“Mommy, it is fifteen minutes to the music class and so can I please get my Harry Potter book along. I can read it on the way” pleads my “precious” little offspring with the killer eyelashes and intelligent eyes. Ok, we’re a sucker when it comes to reading and books and so we agree. Mozart speeds up the stairs and hunts for his book and makes it to the car in record time. Imagine that he was not distracted at all. En route to the music class, we realize Mozart brought his Harry Potter book along but completely forgot to bring his music book along. The forgotten music book is lying on the carpet in his room. So yet again, we get reprimanded for his absentmindedness.
Speaking of being a model student, we’ve made tremendous progress in that pursuit. Einstein here is an intelligent child alright, but not exactly a quiet one at that. He can chatter away the entire time which causes other kids to get distracted. All through the first couple of years at school we had to coach him to be quiet. And I can tell you that was an uphill task. Try explaining to a five year old that he had to stay quiet. You cannot predict dire consequences if he does not stay quiet because that will just make him not want to go to school. We persevered and today we have a very good student who is extremely friendly and who is a great joy to have in class (His teacher’s words, not mine) but still if only he could learn to whisper softly and not get distracted during class.
When he has an exam or test, I have indigestion the previous night. If only, I could study hard and he could be graded on how well I studied. Being a parent is tough. I can just imagine how all the coaches in the world feel.
And trust me these are just a few of my favorite gripes, if I list them all, it will be a 500 page book. In a nutshell, I’ve always wanted revenge on my “precious” offspring. And we found the ideal revenge, we had another child. What an absolutely brilliant idea – Give the elder one an opinionated, bratty, temperamental, nagging, whining younger sibling. Just perrrrfect!
“Yoo Hoo! Oldest offspring of mine, please pick up all your brothers toys and clothes.” To which my son protests, “But they are not mine. They’re his”.
My husband and I mentally rub our hands together and gleefully answer, “Yes but that’s what an older brother does. And if you don’t there will be dire consequences”.
Whenever the younger one cries, we scold the older one – he may or may not be at fault, but that is never an important consideration. “Yoo hoo! Oldest offspring of mine, can you make sure your brother does not cry.”
“Yoo Hoo! Oldest offspring of mine, read a Dr Seuss book to your brother. And nope, we really don’t care what you are doing, just keep your sibling busy. Read to him NOW.”
“Mommy, can I go play in so and so’s house?” asks the older one. “Yeah sure, no issues”, reply I. “Make sure you take your brother with you. Make sure he does not wander away and don’t let the other boys pick on him. Make sure he wears a jacket at all times.”
Parenting is fun. I get a fiendish delight seeing my older son’s face twitch at the long list of do’s that I demand.
“Mommy, if I take care of my brother for the whole week. And I do my homework regularly and I behave well. Can I get pocket money at the end of the week” asks my son.
“You mean to say you want to get paid for being an elder brother. Son, let me give you lesson in life for free. Parents and elder siblings are people who never get thanked or appreciated. They are hated for being the voice of reason and for being responsible. They are expected to always be there for their children and their younger siblings but don’t expect a thank you note for your efforts. On the subject of money, you can get pocket money but you’re going to have to mow the lawn and wash the dishes for that.”
It is so much fun watching my older son run behind his sibling picking up after him, making sure all his needs are met, teaching him his alphabets, taking care that he does not wander away when they go to a friends house to play. First time parents are exhausted people, they overdo everything and generally wear themselves out with their first offspring. With the second offspring, it is time for revenge on the first child. It’s almost like we have a marker out on the first one “You owe us! And how!”
And since my sons have a pretty large gap (six years), my older son is almost a pseudo parent for my younger son. He loves his brother and will go to any lengths to take care of him, when he remembers that is. I see him growing up to be a really awesome older brother. One I myself would have loved to have as a child. A cluttered room not withstanding, my older son makes me very proud. Being a Mom is absolutely one of the best things that could ever have happened to me.
“Yoo Hoo! Younger offspring of mine, I now have a marker our on you too. You owe me and how!”
I just need to figure out a way to take revenge on him. No more kids though – coz that would be like cutting off my face to spite my nose(or something like that). Kids are fun, kids are adorable, kids are precious but most of all kids are a lot of TROUBLE. And they are totally worth all the trouble.
And for those of you who are older brothers and sisters, your younger siblings thank you. You are our heroes. I should know since I am a younger sibling myself.
