A couple of years ago, I would have given anything for Ads to run out of the house every evening to play with his friends. Instead he would sit quietly at home, drawing endlessly or reading for hours. Now, I get annoyed with him for playing cricket (and talking about it endlessly) and wish he would start drawing again and reading.
Isn't it so unfair that every time he gets closer to the finish line, I promptly draw another one a little further away! Oh the unfairness of it all! I am ashamed of myself.
I told myself this when he came back from school the second day in a row with his snack untouched. His favourite whole-wheat chocolate cupcakes had been nibbled around the edges, fit only to be thrown into the bin. Amma they aren't nice any more, he claimed. I got my just desserts (pun intended).
When we came to India, I wished more than anything else for him to be sociable, sporty and brave. He has become all of these...and yet...I complain ever so often :(
The burden of expectations- I didn't think I was that kind of mom. Yet we all seem to do it. Or worse, sink under someone else's expectations.
Turning over a new leaf from today :)