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Too Careful For Comfort :: 11th January 2004

Let's be totally honest here: there's a reason why I am not an accountant. On top of the fact that I cannot count for the life of me, I also pay very little attention to details when it comes to numbers. It's probably genetic cause let's look at my mom. I really respect my mom and love her dearly. Unconditionally.

I never appreciated her before because I thought she was nagging me all the time….well, the notion came to an abrupt end when I became a mother myself. I don't nag my kids and husband, mind you, but I can be OVERLY concerned.

For instance, I caught myself sounding like a broken record when Joshua was learning how to use…you know, those kid-friendly scissors. Every single move he made, I said "Be careful, Joshua. It's dangerous"….all this before he even makes a feeble attempt to actually CUT the paper. I guided his hand like he was launching a nuclear missile or something. To a point that he stopped mid air after I said, "Be careful, Joshua. It's dangerous" and he gave me this unfamiliar look of exasperation….like "Chill out, ma! I haven't even started cutting anything yet and besides, I can't even cut a noodle with this thing".

I now appreciated her like nothing else because I am a lot like her….I figured this out only a few years back, ok?

Joshua is not like me at all. Totally, so totally unlike me.

Instead of being the fun, carefree, fun-loving, trouble-seeker, risk-taking kid that he should be, he is careful beyond reason. He always pays attention to details….funnily, this does not apply when it comes to his work, though, but truth be told, he's a better mother than me.

I finished giving my boys a shower and brought the towels to wrap them up in before they stepped out into the chilly room. Jared came out without a second thought and I wrapped him up tightly and he went bouncing off into the horizon. Joshua, on the other hand, started picking up all the toys in the bathroom. I waited for a while and then I noticed that his jaws were quivering - I even detected a slight blue tinge on his lips. So, of course, I called out to him and asked him to come out of that bathroom and stop picking up the toys.

But he refused. "I have to pick up the toys, mom"

The world won't end if you don't pick up all the toys now, will it, Josh? But then, let's look at it from another angle….Gee whiz! What kind of mother am I? I can hear all other more conventional mothers out there demanding that all toys be picked up before leaving the bathroom and here I am chiding my son for picking up the toys after he's done with it? Urm, the equation wasn't right by any standards.

Yesterday night, all three of us (me, Joshua and Jared) got drenched from head to toe just because Joshua wanted to keep his slippers dry in the rain. I mean, come on! It was after one of his enrichment activities and I went over to pick him up with Jared in tow. As luck would have it, it started to rain. But I wasn't worried because I parked like only a few steps from the lobby of that place.

Just outside? Then how did we end up getting drenched. Well, because Joshua wanted to keep his slippers dry in the rain. His attempt resulted in slow, moonwalk-like trudging in the heavy rain. He was mindfully maneuvering his way around the puddles, not realizing that the splattering from the rain would make his slippers wet anyway!!! While he moonwalked his way to the car WHICH WAS JUST A COUPLE OF STEPS AWAY, we all got drenched.

Isn't he just a tad too careful? But you know what? It doesn't matter, does it?

I mentioned this to my husband some time ago, "You know, Joshua is like a manic-depressive who is afraid of stepping on cracks, won't walk under the ladder…you know, that kind of person. He's just a little bit too careful about things, don't you think?"

My husband raised an eyebrow, and shook his finger at me, "Don't you DARE try to change anything in him. I prefer him to be so good with details as compared to you. I don't want him to leave trails of things behind him in his wake, like you".

Yeah, sure. That's coming from a melancholic? I understand, dearie…NOT!

:: Marsha ::