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Together we stepped out of the multiplex holding each other’s hands. The romance of the movie had filled up my head and I was feeling ecstatic. We reached the parking lot,he wore his helmet I put on mine. He sat on the bike, busted the engine. I followed the cue, whirled behind him and passed my hands under his to hold him tight. And with thundering voice, we hit the road.
I could feel the mist in the air, the romance of night, enjoying the leathery touch of his jacket on my arms. I saw the moon at the horizon and felt the chill in the wind…. Oh the winters have hit! Off-came a chilling thought rushing through my spine and making me completely bump behind him in the air. I shouted, “Kiddo is not wearing his pullover!”
My Man, who was truly enjoying the moment, stopped the engine with a jolt and busted, “We have come alone for a ride! Your son is safe underneath all those layers your sissy might have put on him by now. You left him to her place for the night-out, remember?”
He laughed out loud. I accentuated his joy with my sheepish smile!
Welcome to the life of a mum!
Here righteousness is more important than romance and love takes a back seat to motherly care. Bestowed upon with huge expectations, we get so much occupied in ensuring the well-being of one cute little thing in our life that we start taking the grown-up granted. It is frail, he is macho. It can’t express himself, he can speak. It can’t take care of itself, he is capable.
But is it?
He is macho when he has to stand between you and the world, but frail when he is unable to choose between his ego and you; give him love. He can speak thousand words amidst friends and family, peer group and strangers, but unable to express his tenderness to you without getting angry with you; give him affection. He is capable of living a life on his own but wants you to take care of his towel and socks; give him attention. It is never this or that, it’s us!
I recall the stupid me in the initial months of kiddo’s growing –up.
There were friends who would come over for a get together. Everybody would chit-chat. I would also indulge in it or at least pretend to. But, the mother-in-me would just wait for the right moment when it could sneak out unnoticed and push some food down into the kiddo’s energy pot!
Not to forget those sleep-overs and late-night functions. I would superficially enjoy the endless conversations of relatives and give fake laughs and smiles; while all this time, the super-mum would concentrate on that single speck of voice that might come from the other room where the kiddo is sleeping.
Oh, and those romantic dinners which the Man painstakingly planned for me! He would try hard to bring me to the table, rather bring my mind to it, but all in vain. Sometimes, he also tried helping me out by feeding the kid, so that I can relax and chill. But I am the mother, I am the responsible-one, I am the torch-bearer! How can I dare relax? I the superwoman can at least count how many bites have gone down that little throat, if not feed!
It’s ok if it is half-fed, it won’t die of hunger. It’s ok if it is playing on its own, he won’t develop depression out of loneliness. But what you might miss in these years is that love your man is habitual to. Acknowledge his being. Listen to him just don’t hear, walk with him, just don’t only stroll, converse and not only answer.
The PERFORMANCE pressure, the BIG responsibility and the fear of failure will always remain. But, one more thing which is constant is his importance in your life. Your ‘it’ will soon become a ‘he’/ ‘she’ and find its soul mate to live the life. At that time, you’ll need your man to bring you towel and pull up your socks in winters!
Give Your Man his due share when it is due- Now!