“A man is not a man until you
give your love truly and freely to a child. And you are not a good man until
you earn the love, truly and freely, of a child in return.”-Shantaram
For the first twenty five years of my life, I could never understand
how anyone could love those little humans who are pain in the *** most of the
time. I wasn’t the type of woman who goes “ooohs how sweet and cute” whenever I
see a baby. In fact I hated them so much that I got horrified whenever I was asked to hold them in my hands. Most of my girl friends have these dreams to
become the perfect bride one day and then the most obedient housewife and
finally as they call it “the greatest privilege in their life” to become a mom.
To be honest none of them had ever been a part of my dreams. I had
thought about it but not in a very serious manner. I could think of myself getting
married but could never imagine myself being a mom, mostly because I hated kids.
For me they were nothing but poop bags who constantly seek attention and
who has crying as a solution for all the problems in life. I guess the frequency
of crying babies synchronizes perfectly well with the natural frequency of part
of my brain that stimulates exasperation.
However 3 years ago I became an aunt. I still remember the first time I
saw my little nephew. I was excited but I didn’t want to hold him but my sister
in law insisted that I should hold him. There I was worried sick if he would
wet my clothes or worse start to scream, but this little guy was strange.
Instead he curled his fingers around my fingers and he didn’t let my fingers go
even when his mom took him back.
That was the first time in my life where I truly felt some kind of a
real connection with a baby. He was the first person to awaken the famine or
the maternal side of me. Ever since then, he has been my greatest weakness, that
basically he can make me do whatever he wants.
The interesting thing is even
when he plays the devil I can keep cool and understand all his moves while most
of the others around loose it with him. I might be one of them who can calmly
answer all his very serious logical and annoying questions about the things
that are happening around him and repeat the same story more than let say 20
times in one night.
Not only that now I’ve started treating all the kids in the
world as if they are my own and I perfectly understand why women do what they
do to kids. Hey little guy “Osuka” I don’t know if I should be thankful or mad
about this transformation.
