This article was published in the Star.
Grand dreams, harsh realities
19 October 2011
By K. SYED
I never thought I would end up like this, hot and sweaty with a ladle in one hand standing over a stockpot! No, I never thought I would be a housewife. I was always a high-achiever, garnering a string of As, and had the liberty to choose my scholarships, went on a paper chase and obtained three degrees.
In the meantime I married a doctor who was married to his job, had three children, ran a household and worked as an engineer. I was able to hold everything together. But of course, I had help – my parents and my helper of four years.
Then my support system fell apart. My efficient helper returned home, and the rest of the 10 helpers that weaved in and out of our home in a span of five years brought more misery than help.
Then the fourth child came along. I guess it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It did not help that it was more of a screaming banshee than a baby! I could not hold it together anymore, and so ended my more than a decade of trying to be a superwoman.
I had grand plans of being a stay-at-home mum. I decided that I was going to be the perfect wife and mother who spread out gourmet dishes at every meal. I was going to homeschool my sweet, well-mannered children who would listen to every word that I uttered. It was going to be like The Sound Of Music; I’d be Maria, of course. We would play games and amuse ourselves. Life was going to be a blast!
My bubble burst pretty fast. Real life hit me like a tornado! You would have thought I could sleep in and need not rush to work; well, I had to get up even earlier to send my son to school. Once back, I had to start cooking and finish it before the baby woke up.
Once she was awake, well, all peace was lost! You bathed her, she would cry; you dried her hair, she would scream; you pulled her diapers on, she hollered ... you get the picture.
Next would be her feeding time – my nightmare. All my children were poor eaters but my fourth child took the cake. She peppered mealtimes with screams.
By this time I thought I was losing my hearing!
While feeding the baby I would have my other two children do some of my prepared lessons. You would think that while you were struggling to feed the screaming banshee, the other two would obediently finish their work and ask for more.
Then you strode in, bringing more lessons for the two, only to find that the daughter did not continue from the first question because her pencil broke and she had been sharpening it ever since because it kept breaking. You can imagine the size of the pencil. The son managed to do all of two questions before he started to watch the sister sharpen her pencil.
You banged your head on the wall and proceed ed to clean the pencil shavings.
Lunch was served and if you think your kids were going to heap accolades on you and ask for seconds then you were naive. One wanted curry and the other soup; you promised them pizza for dinner and cleared the table.
Then there were the chauffeur duties, taking them to school, extra-curricular activities, school projects, music lessons, and back. Then when you thought you could take a breather, the baby cried “poopy”. And I had not even touched the laundry.
Fast-forward to a year later. I have grown accustomed to my routine. The children have been trained to perform their chores. My screaming banshee has turned into a happy toddler who calls me “Mummy Dear” (aww!).
I no longer have high ambitions, I have learned to embrace the now and be happy.
My husband has flexible working hours now and is very much involved in raising the children. I had not spent as much time with him in all the 12 years of our married life as I had the past year. We have realised that not all good things are monetary, and we no longer go for expensive holidays but have as much fun at home.
It takes some wisdom to realise the misfortunes that befall us sometimes are not misfortunes at all but God’s way of showing us a better path. In my case, I would still be slaving at my job and never have the opportunity of truly raising my children.
I never thought I would end up like this, hot and sweaty with a ladle in one hand standing over a stockpot! No, I never thought I would be a housewife. I was always a high-achiever, garnering a string of As, and had the liberty to choose my scholarships, went on a paper chase and obtained three degrees.
In the meantime I married a doctor who was married to his job, had three children, ran a household and worked as an engineer. I was able to hold everything together. But of course, I had help – my parents and my helper of four years.
Then my support system fell apart. My efficient helper returned home, and the rest of the 10 helpers that weaved in and out of our home in a span of five years brought more misery than help.
Then the fourth child came along. I guess it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It did not help that it was more of a screaming banshee than a baby! I could not hold it together anymore, and so ended my more than a decade of trying to be a superwoman.
I had grand plans of being a stay-at-home mum. I decided that I was going to be the perfect wife and mother who spread out gourmet dishes at every meal. I was going to homeschool my sweet, well-mannered children who would listen to every word that I uttered. It was going to be like The Sound Of Music; I’d be Maria, of course. We would play games and amuse ourselves. Life was going to be a blast!
My bubble burst pretty fast. Real life hit me like a tornado! You would have thought I could sleep in and need not rush to work; well, I had to get up even earlier to send my son to school. Once back, I had to start cooking and finish it before the baby woke up.
Once she was awake, well, all peace was lost! You bathed her, she would cry; you dried her hair, she would scream; you pulled her diapers on, she hollered ... you get the picture.
Next would be her feeding time – my nightmare. All my children were poor eaters but my fourth child took the cake. She peppered mealtimes with screams.
By this time I thought I was losing my hearing!
While feeding the baby I would have my other two children do some of my prepared lessons. You would think that while you were struggling to feed the screaming banshee, the other two would obediently finish their work and ask for more.
Then you strode in, bringing more lessons for the two, only to find that the daughter did not continue from the first question because her pencil broke and she had been sharpening it ever since because it kept breaking. You can imagine the size of the pencil. The son managed to do all of two questions before he started to watch the sister sharpen her pencil.
You banged your head on the wall and proceed ed to clean the pencil shavings.
Lunch was served and if you think your kids were going to heap accolades on you and ask for seconds then you were naive. One wanted curry and the other soup; you promised them pizza for dinner and cleared the table.
Then there were the chauffeur duties, taking them to school, extra-curricular activities, school projects, music lessons, and back. Then when you thought you could take a breather, the baby cried “poopy”. And I had not even touched the laundry.
Fast-forward to a year later. I have grown accustomed to my routine. The children have been trained to perform their chores. My screaming banshee has turned into a happy toddler who calls me “Mummy Dear” (aww!).
I no longer have high ambitions, I have learned to embrace the now and be happy.
My husband has flexible working hours now and is very much involved in raising the children. I had not spent as much time with him in all the 12 years of our married life as I had the past year. We have realised that not all good things are monetary, and we no longer go for expensive holidays but have as much fun at home.
It takes some wisdom to realise the misfortunes that befall us sometimes are not misfortunes at all but God’s way of showing us a better path. In my case, I would still be slaving at my job and never have the opportunity of truly raising my children.
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