Kids, Parenting


Academic year’s done.  School’s closed.  And the kid has been handed over to me safely and with a good report.  She’s all mine for the next 55 days.  Not that I’m counting down or anything.  I just happen to know the exact number of days left for school to re-open.  Let’s just go with the assumption that I am terribly good with numbers and these things just come naturally to me ;).  See, it’s this kind of crippling fear of summer breaks and long vacations that lead me to believe that I ain’t mommy material.  I just wasn’t cut out for this. Don’t get me wrong.  I love kids.  I love Ka. To the end of the universe and back.  I love to watch her grow. I can’t wait to see the woman she will grow up to be.  I mean, there are days when I miss her so much (while she’s at school) that I talk to her even when she isn’t around.  She is by far the best thing that happened to me (Oh, but don’t tell Mr. M that though. He still thinks he was the best thing that happened to me when the reality is that he got pushed to #2 the day I found out I was pregnant). But all said and done, spending the summer with her makes me nervous. What am I supposed to do with her? I can watch movies with her and bake cupcakes and paint pots and do art projects and have loads of fun in general.  But the kind of mommy that I am, I know I will never be able to resist the urge to make her practice piano every single day or do math and comprehension exercises everyday.  But all I ask is 60 minutes of work each day.  And it doesn’t even have to be in one sitting.  She can split it up through the day if she wants.  She can have the remaining 23 hours to herself doing whatever she pleases.  No small print, no hidden agendas, no  conditions applied.  And yet there’s going to be the whining and bargaining and begging and sulking and complaining and rolling of the eyes. I dread that whole routine. I hate it and up until now it hadn’t sunk in how long 55 days can be.  I think it’s when we walked out of her school gates with a bag full of her year’s work, having given a thank you gift to her teacher and having paid next year’s fee that it finally hit me like a truck hurtling downhill with no brakes and no driver. So here I am, supposed to be looking for material I can print out and work with her on through summer, but blogging instead just to get it out of my system and make the impending, inevitable time ahead seem less daunting.  For those of you wondering if I have considered being less adamant about being a task master, rest assured, I have given it serious thought. But, in the end I am me and she will just have to learn to deal with it.  Coz I don’t put unreasonable limits on the fun she has.  And she has to learn that hard work is not optional.  That’s the way I had to do it as a child, and that’s the way Mr. M did it as a child.  And I really don’t know if I’m right or wrong.  But, I guess I’ll find out.  Someday…


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