You saw me with shaving lather all over my face and started giggling. In a few minutes when I had shaved most of it, you saw me again and were a bit confused as to where all the foam had gone.
"How does that work!?" you part commented and part asked. A phrase, I thought, as tall and meaning laden as your whole almost-three-year-old self!
Most of these evenings your mom puts you to bed, reading you stories. Sometimes, you would ask her to call me on my phone downstairs to get milk for you. You would softly whisper the bare minimum of words - "Dad ! Milk!"
Your mom and I would secretly agree amongst the two of us if you do need the milk right then or if it should wait for some more time. I could then take your bottle of milk with me later on and push it in your hands for you to have it in your sleep.
It happened again today - your mom called and you asked for the bottle. As always, I asked you to close your eyes and wait for me. I didn't intend to get it then as your mom thought you had had a heavy dinner already. Well, as it turns out, in a few minutes you called me again. "You didn't come" were your words and I felt as guilty as I ever could.
Your tone wasn't accusatory at all, maybe just a tad bit complaining. But I felt like I had wronged you, let you down in the biggest of ways. Although the intent was never to devoid you of anything. That, to me, spells out the essence of my relationship with you - I'm more than me if you are happy. I am sad if you are anything less than happy.
The sad part is, I cannot promise your happiness. No one can. You would have your shares of happy and unhappy moments, unhappy days and god forbid, unhappy months. Another sad part is, we as your parents are increasingly faced with choices on a daily basis where the easy way would be to easily accept all your innocent but demanding tantrums and keep you smiling in the shortest of terms. The difficult choice is to take a stand where your demands are not for your own good and somehow help you understand why you can't always have your way. Like watching too much TV, staying up beyond your bedtime, wearing the right warm clothes etc. It is a tightrope that our parents would have walked in their own way and we will too.
Dear Daughter,
It hasn't been an easy few weeks for us, for me. Quite a few things not going the way we would have preferred to. Issues that have bearing on my time, effort and finances. I need to stand strong and I will. The good thing is we have been through worse and came out victorious. This time around, the good as well as the scary part is that you are with us, with me. You see, its always a choice - I could let you be my weakness and buckle under the pressure. Or I could have you as my strength - my guardian angel in person.
One of these stressful days, I was driving you to the nursery in the morning. There came one of those moments when I was feeling down, out and spent beyond my means. I had my favourite bhajan on to give me strength although I do not believe in prayer. I freed up one of my hands from the driving and reached across to you. You held my hand in yours and it was like magic, all over again. It must have been just a few seconds before I needed the hand to drive again but I had already travelled mentally a million miles away from my sadder self and to a much safer, bolder state of mind. Just by listening to the recording of a few words sung by unknown people a few years back. And feeling assured that you are with me. Now "How does that work ?"
As they say, I shouldn't be as worried about what you say but be more concerned about what you see. I want you to see a strong me. As I saw my mom and my brothers. So then, the choice isn't really there - you shall be my strength and I shall be victorious.
"How does that work!?" you part commented and part asked. A phrase, I thought, as tall and meaning laden as your whole almost-three-year-old self!
Most of these evenings your mom puts you to bed, reading you stories. Sometimes, you would ask her to call me on my phone downstairs to get milk for you. You would softly whisper the bare minimum of words - "Dad ! Milk!"
Your mom and I would secretly agree amongst the two of us if you do need the milk right then or if it should wait for some more time. I could then take your bottle of milk with me later on and push it in your hands for you to have it in your sleep.
It happened again today - your mom called and you asked for the bottle. As always, I asked you to close your eyes and wait for me. I didn't intend to get it then as your mom thought you had had a heavy dinner already. Well, as it turns out, in a few minutes you called me again. "You didn't come" were your words and I felt as guilty as I ever could.
Your tone wasn't accusatory at all, maybe just a tad bit complaining. But I felt like I had wronged you, let you down in the biggest of ways. Although the intent was never to devoid you of anything. That, to me, spells out the essence of my relationship with you - I'm more than me if you are happy. I am sad if you are anything less than happy.
The sad part is, I cannot promise your happiness. No one can. You would have your shares of happy and unhappy moments, unhappy days and god forbid, unhappy months. Another sad part is, we as your parents are increasingly faced with choices on a daily basis where the easy way would be to easily accept all your innocent but demanding tantrums and keep you smiling in the shortest of terms. The difficult choice is to take a stand where your demands are not for your own good and somehow help you understand why you can't always have your way. Like watching too much TV, staying up beyond your bedtime, wearing the right warm clothes etc. It is a tightrope that our parents would have walked in their own way and we will too.
Dear Daughter,
It hasn't been an easy few weeks for us, for me. Quite a few things not going the way we would have preferred to. Issues that have bearing on my time, effort and finances. I need to stand strong and I will. The good thing is we have been through worse and came out victorious. This time around, the good as well as the scary part is that you are with us, with me. You see, its always a choice - I could let you be my weakness and buckle under the pressure. Or I could have you as my strength - my guardian angel in person.
One of these stressful days, I was driving you to the nursery in the morning. There came one of those moments when I was feeling down, out and spent beyond my means. I had my favourite bhajan on to give me strength although I do not believe in prayer. I freed up one of my hands from the driving and reached across to you. You held my hand in yours and it was like magic, all over again. It must have been just a few seconds before I needed the hand to drive again but I had already travelled mentally a million miles away from my sadder self and to a much safer, bolder state of mind. Just by listening to the recording of a few words sung by unknown people a few years back. And feeling assured that you are with me. Now "How does that work ?"
As they say, I shouldn't be as worried about what you say but be more concerned about what you see. I want you to see a strong me. As I saw my mom and my brothers. So then, the choice isn't really there - you shall be my strength and I shall be victorious.
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