For better or for worse...

to have & to hold...

Sometimes the relationship between a mother and child feels vaguely connubial.

When we become parents, do we not enter a sacred covenant ordained by God to be earthly guardians of our children? Do we not vow to love, comfort, honour and keep, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and love... as long as you both shall live? (I'm paraphrasing a bit here but you get the idea.)

I can think of so many ways parenthood can be likened to a marriage. Let's see, we:

• Prepare their meals,
  
• Launder/iron/fold away their clothes,
  
• Clean up after them,
• Make their beds,
  
• Smother them with 'hello' and 'goodbye' kisses
  
• Make time for them,
  
• Invest time building that strong, meaningful bond,
  
• Share their meals, lament the amount of wastage when there are leftovers,
  
• TRY HARD NOT to eat their scraps,
  
• Share many precious, loving moments with them,
  
• Listen to them talk, or at best pretend to listen to them jabber on and on
  
• Patronize them (guilty!)
  
• Listen to their grouses, their victories, their stories (tall, or otherwise)
  
• Guffaw at their jokes, yes, even the bad ones
  
• Encourage them when they fail,
• Buy their underthongs, toiletries... stuff
  
• Cajole them into doing things WE want them to do (oh yeah...),
  
• Worry about them,
  
• Care for them when they're sick,
  
• Catch them when they fall
• Love them like every day's the last
  

How's that for a list?

Still, despite the conjugal similarities, there are differences. 'course there are.

There is no courtship before this 'marriage'. No weeks/months/ years spent wooing, beguiling, impressing. No sitting around, twiddling thumbs, waiting for that warm fuzzy feeling to bulldoze its way into our hearts.

After birth, we're thrust with a child who - love or loathe - is ours for keeps.

We have no say in choosing a parent or a child. We're not shown swatches, nor given a grand selection to pick and choose from. We can't try on for size. There's no waiting around to see 'if the shoe fits'.

Because every thing is decided by God, in toto.

Perhaps that's why I can't help but feel Cheeks has the raw end of the deal here.

Instead of a mum, she's stuck with an idiosyncratic, impatient, dismissive, emotional, highly strung, stickler for rules and schedules, disciplinarian, persistent nag, boring old stick-in-the-mud.

(In case you're thinking it - no, I'm not attempting to self-deprecate.)

How often I've failed her. My Achilles' heel being my perennial inability to curb the torrent of emotions within me. I emote too easily, recklessly. But as a mum, you simply can't give in to impulsive emotions. You. Just. Can't.

Yet time and time again, I do.

Sometimes I watch her, watching me. I notice how she cowers ashamedly when I show my displeasure or disappointment. How visibly distraught she is when I'm upset. How she reacts nervously when I'm impatient with her.

And in my moments of delirious fury - when my face darkens and my voice transforms into a thunderous boom box - her apple-shaped face crumples up, her tears fall like rain. She reaches out for me, arms extended half the way, wanting to be held and comforted, yet unsure, afraid. She's desperate to know if I still love her, and when I hold out my arms, she quickly burrows her head in my chest, and whimpers, 'I'm so sorry, Mummy, I won't be naughty again', or 'I love you, Mummy. Even when you're naughty,' after I've given her a lashing.

And my heart - it dies inside of me.

I worry how my thoughtless words and actions will have an adverse effect on her. But often, it's a thought that pops to mind too little, too late.

Many a time, I feel I'm the one who should be apologising for appalling behaviour. I'm the one who needs the assurance that despite my foibles, I'm still loved.

But Cheeks, she's always a step ahead. She offers them to me ever readily, freely.

My manjah munchkin is always quick to proffer cuddles, profess 'I love you so so much, Mummy', pucker up for a kiss - sometimes for no apparent reason.

She makes me feel loved. All the time.

I am totally undeserving of this adoration. This love and adoration that seem to echo the marital vows 'for better or for worse'.

So here's mummy thanking you for loving me, Cheeks. Even when I'm naughty...even at my worst.