2 Months into the new year and I realised I’ve not written a single thing this year ! Boy have I been busy. There’s a little one on the way and the wifey has been jumping up and down (not literally), panicking and all about how unprepared we are… me, I just plan to go with the flow 🙂 (I’m sure she’ll smack my head if she reads this)
As mentioned earlier, last year was a major change in my life. And this year will be even more so with the arrival of the little one. So many questions swirling around my head… chief amongst them run along the lines of “how do I want my child raised ?”
I remember disagreeing aplenty as a child with the decisions my parents made. I never thought of them as the best or the most perfect parents. Even though they always provided me with the best they can afford… they expect the best I can offer in return. Like all Asian parents, excellence is expected (think Tiger Mom, but not to such extremes).
Thinking back I do see the merit of their parenting techniques. Even though I never agreed with everything they did, I became the sort of person who is motivated and decisive in every sense. If I was going to disobey them, I made sure it was worth it. I formulated a plan to minimise the negative ramifications of my actions. And I sure as hell learned how to put up a good fight. I learned that nothing you really want comes easy, and if you really want it, you must and will work for it. I guess in a way my parents taught me one of life’s most important lessons from day 1.
So as I ponder the questions of my impending parenthood… I find myself swaying more and more to the ideals of my parents… even though I resented them back then. The only problem I have with it is… well… they will always be my parents ! Till this day, they are my parents. I have never viewed my father, or mother, as my friend or confidante. I keep my thoughts to myself. I don’t tell my parents my fears or mistakes. Today they have but a superficial understanding of my life. How we got here is a long story. But the bottom line is, they are not my friends. We are not estranged. Though I only see them a few times a year. In short, we live our lives separately. I wonder if it’s a bad or good thing… After all, that’s how a boy becomes his own man no ?
For the NOT working WORKING person 