Karma
'Why can't we be like a normal family?!', she parted, then slammed the car door shut as she hurriedly walked into the gate of her school. I had a mind to spill out a very loud mouthful were we not within earshot of the school security guard and the other kids arriving. Sometimes I am just totally amazed and impressed by my recently acquired self-control.
But wow. The nerve and the audacity. Antonia, my precocious 13-year old middle child, certainly has her moments and happened to pick yesterday morning which happened to be a bad time for pissness and a headache. Longsuffering that I am, I came through for the day, notwithstanding the mandatory high-noon dead relative visitation in the suburbs ( the boredom! the heat! the traffic! ) and a lazifying but necessary trip to Divisoria to purchase restaurant supplies after (the crowd! the heat! the traffic!). What a day.
First, let me make clear -- family, our nest and comfort zone, isn't always a walk in the park, even if its welfare happens to be the biggest prayer item in every praying person's list. I only know it too well, and so does Antonia, and her older sibling Fatima, i'm sure. Arianna, the youngest, well, she's exempt because she doesn't seem to have this pressing need to argue and question the ways of the world and her parents.
The recent retirement by reason of sickness of our family driver brought on a decision that we will not hire another one. To drive and fetch the kids from school is resolved by me and my husband alternating the task, which happens to be the cause for these morning arguments. First, my genius kids foresaw the challenge it poses to their weekend activities. The security of having a driver to bring them when and wherever is now no more. Second, my kids, vampirish and certified night people, have this need to decompress quite lengthily in the morning, and thus act PMSy from the time they wake up till they get to school. And for some mysterious reason, they seem to be able to switch it off once in the classroom. Good for their teacehers.
Reporting for duty to Mom, the despot who mission ordered the dead relative visitation, helped clarify things a little for me. I told her about the morning episode with Antonia, and despite my genuine irritation, she chuckled and told me, 'well, what goes around comes around'. Yeah, yeah. She indeed told me, a long time ago, that I will only know how it feels when i start having kids who will answer back at me, for those times i would 'reason out' on her.
So what is the moral of the story? None. Well, actually, I have to concede -- Mothers Know Best. And Antonia, my precocious 13-year old middle child, had better remember that!
Filed Under: Life
But wow. The nerve and the audacity. Antonia, my precocious 13-year old middle child, certainly has her moments and happened to pick yesterday morning which happened to be a bad time for pissness and a headache. Longsuffering that I am, I came through for the day, notwithstanding the mandatory high-noon dead relative visitation in the suburbs ( the boredom! the heat! the traffic! ) and a lazifying but necessary trip to Divisoria to purchase restaurant supplies after (the crowd! the heat! the traffic!). What a day.
First, let me make clear -- family, our nest and comfort zone, isn't always a walk in the park, even if its welfare happens to be the biggest prayer item in every praying person's list. I only know it too well, and so does Antonia, and her older sibling Fatima, i'm sure. Arianna, the youngest, well, she's exempt because she doesn't seem to have this pressing need to argue and question the ways of the world and her parents.
The recent retirement by reason of sickness of our family driver brought on a decision that we will not hire another one. To drive and fetch the kids from school is resolved by me and my husband alternating the task, which happens to be the cause for these morning arguments. First, my genius kids foresaw the challenge it poses to their weekend activities. The security of having a driver to bring them when and wherever is now no more. Second, my kids, vampirish and certified night people, have this need to decompress quite lengthily in the morning, and thus act PMSy from the time they wake up till they get to school. And for some mysterious reason, they seem to be able to switch it off once in the classroom. Good for their teacehers.
Reporting for duty to Mom, the despot who mission ordered the dead relative visitation, helped clarify things a little for me. I told her about the morning episode with Antonia, and despite my genuine irritation, she chuckled and told me, 'well, what goes around comes around'. Yeah, yeah. She indeed told me, a long time ago, that I will only know how it feels when i start having kids who will answer back at me, for those times i would 'reason out' on her.
So what is the moral of the story? None. Well, actually, I have to concede -- Mothers Know Best. And Antonia, my precocious 13-year old middle child, had better remember that!
Filed Under: Life
<< Home