While watching a movie last night with the boys (hubby, bro and son), came across a dialogue that said something to the effect of a mother feeling the pain of her child more than anyone else. As this line is said, the father simply looks away.
I have wondered aloud in the past, as I do now, why this emphasis is always placed on a mother. Every day we see ads luring us by exploiting a mother-child relation. Quotes are pasted across social media that equate a mother to God (not that it bothers the non-believer in me).
Earlier, I would feel angry on behalf of the fathers. I would think that they never get their due share of recognition. We always are in such a hurry to place a mother on a pedestal, that we almost always forget the man who loves the child equally, or more. I still feel bad that fathers, even in these times where they share all parenting responsibilities, hardly have a word going for them. But since I don’t see the men protesting or, as is true to their much admirable trait, don’t give a damn about such trivial things, I rest my case happily on that one.
I often wonder if women feel too bogged down by these set standards and these expectations. I wonder why it cannot be accepted that what a child truly needs is a care-giver who genuinely has the child’s best interest at heart. This person could be the father, a grandparent, an educator or, in rare cases, even a nanny. These claims that state that only a mother knows her child and only a mother’s presence can soothe the child (endless list, really) are really getting tiresome to hear.
By no means am I belittling what a mother is. I am one. I should be basking in all the glory. Only, this glory carries with it a lot of unreal ideas and expectations that could cause my shoulders to droop. I’m not certain I’d want that.
Instead of being stressed over wanting to be the perfect mom, I’d rather have my son see the happy imperfections in me. Instead of making him believe that I’m only next to the Lord Almighty and that there’s no one as amazing as me for him, I would rather get him to equally depend on his father while I go and hide myself in some corner of the house with a cup of tea and a book. Instead of getting him to wax eloquent on our bond, I would rather see him build meaningful friendships so that I can enjoy mine, too.
Selfish as it may sound, I take total pride in not being the perfect mother who is the centre of her child’s universe and vice versa.
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