THE CAT WHO WANTS TO BE DEAR ABBY
Letter 2
Dear CAT,
This letter is addressed to you and not to my kids because I do not want to alienate them. I remember reading an advice that when you feel the blues, try to touch base with friends or somebody you consider a soul mate, in whose company, you can afford to lower your defenses since he is going to accept you for what you are. You are a CAT. I know you would not mind. When I get the severe attack of melancholy, I develop the feeling of insecurity. I thirst for the attention of my children. Call it a hormonal thing or the chemical reaction of the medication that I am taking for my hypertension. I have reached the age when I ponder on my mom’s whining when she was at my age. At that time, I thought, she just wanted attention. Having become a widow at a young age, she practically spent her waking hours just like a mother hen to see to it that we ate on time; we went to school regularly and took our bath religiously. I remember her covering us with her petite body when a strong tremor hit the city; as if she can parry the debris that will be falling on us if the house should come crashing down. In the later years, when the eight orphans that we were, turned out to be tenacious, made of resilient stuff and became responsible parents of our own brood, she complained of us being absorbed in our own lives and got no more time left for an old mother who thought that her usefulness had already expired. At that time, I thought she was very possessive of us. I thought, we have already our concerns, our own problems and worries. I thought we were doing her favor when we spared her from knowing our family troubles, big and small. I thought she was unfair to have rejected every woman that my oldest brought home to be his wife. I thought she was unfair when she disowned me when I got married at an early age. I thought and my thoughts are the same thoughts that hound me now. I have forgotten the sacrifices that she made to make us decent and civilized members of society. Others with two parents were made of lesser stuff ended up addicts or emotional wrecks. Our family was not perfect then, even now but she has left a legacy that bound us despite the bodies of water and continents that separate us…that is the quest for our place on earth thru education and persistence to succeed. This has trickled down to the next generation. Children of married members of the family are reaping academic rewards. I got my share of sacrifices for my own family. But I am still figuring it out if these are really sacrifices or it is one way of attempting to correct whatever wrong decisions I have made in marrying at an early age. My justification for the near but distant relationship with my children especially when they are young is the need for me to work hard to give them the best. My work enslaved me. I did everything to earn more. I gave my children the latest toy craze in town without waiting for them to ask. I guessed, I was trying to make up for my absence in their school activities. I was not there to applaud them when they are called onstage to receive awards of sorts. Either I am out of the country or on board a plane trying to catch a nap for the next lecture I am going to deliver to a bunch of professionals, young and old alike. They looked up to me as an expert in system organization, management and coordination. They did not know that I couldn’t even balance my act as a mother, father and breadwinner and ambitious career woman. I thought myself at that time to be a superwoman, who is capable of warding off evils in any form in the guise of trials, tribulations and challenges. I did not cry buckets of tears; not even a tear for my failed marriage. I foresaw it. An ambitious woman paired with a man whose priority is make his future secured regardless of what his children may become. I cried only when the thought that a trusted nanny abused my son crossed my mind. It was a feeling of rage. I have to assume the role of the father/breadwinner at that time and leave his or her care to someone else. I felt, I was deprived of spending quality time when my children are in the age of values formation. Now, I am retired. My kids are all grown up with degrees tucked in their belts. They are doing fine. I lost my usefulness. I learned how to cook which I never did when I was working. I learn how to change diapers. a task, which I left to the nanny… Now I am hiding… and they are not trying to find me.
Sincerely,
Mother of V and W, X, Y, Z
Dear Mother of V et al,
Let them live their lives. Stop acting like a director of the movie. A screenplay writer can always change the plot of the story…ooopsss. Stop acting like a pilot of the plane. Enjoy the ride…Stop acting like the captain of the cruise ship, enjoy the show…Stop sulking…give them hell by making them guess what you are up to…Go out with some men. They will wonder if you are an item…if there is a romance brewing…. Believe you me; they will call for an impromptu meeting. Do you cook lasagna?
CAT
Quotation A mother can take care of ten children but ten children cannot take care of one mother.
