Oliver @ 4 years 11 months

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30th Dec 2016

Hey you.

I counted the number of years and months you were into this year. For a moment, I got a little confused and thought that you were 3 years old. That’s not right. He is 4 this year. I thought to myself. You are going to turn 5 next year.

Gosh. You are going to turn 5 next year. You are going to K1 next year.

Earlier this evening, you came out of your bedroom to drink a cup of water. You had forgotten to bring your water bottle home from school. I rinsed another water bottle, filled it and handed it over to you.

‘Oh, it’s wet.’ And then you proceeded to take a piece of tissue and cleaned it thoroughly.

I watched you do it meticulously on your own accord. Again, I realised that you had grown up before my very eyes . I must have missed the memo that said that I would feel this sense of wonder and love for my child as I watch them grow.

You have the funniest sense of logic. Oh Oliver, the things that you say. I’ve compiled them into #shitolliesez. That same sense of logic that drives me batshits as you use it against me. Not in a bad way, but in a cheeky, teasing kinda way.

You gave me a lot of firsts, and I have wonderful memories of these firsts, well not all wonderful memories, some bad but a good kinda bad. Cos we came out of it even better, didn’t we?

And I wonder, what kind of mom am I to you? What do you see through your eyes?

I have friends who tell me I do a wonderful job with you and your siblings. But I wonder if it is enough for you. Every decision that your dad and I take are meticulously thought out, with your temperament and emotions in mind. Saying ‘he’s just a child, he won’t remember it’ doesn’t cut it. Cos we know you remember so much.

on an average day, you are a pretty awesome son and older brother. on a good day, you blow me away with what you are willing to do and what you can do, how you would lie next to your baby sister and sing her song so that she wouldn’t fuss, and I could continue my chores. On a bad day, you bully the crap outta your younger brother, snub us and pretty much say no to everything. But mostly you got good days.

That sense of wonder in your eyes as we head out, the four of us on our little adventures. These days, you carry your own backpack, filled with essentials that I can grab from easily, so I travel lighter. You share my burden. I watch as you wander ahead of me, reading out signs to me, and asking where we should be heading towards. You enter the lift, hold the door for me and peep to make sure that we are all in before you press the button for the door to close.

Today, you asked if you and Quentin could head to the toys section whilst I went to grab some undies for him. I agreed and asked that the two of you stayed close to each other. When I went to look for you, you were holding Quentin’s hands and walking around, telling him what he should press on the toy.

And today, I wondered what did I do to deserve a kid like you.

[cont’d on 8th January 2017] 

Today ended a little differently, with you in tears at bedtime. I had just put your sister to bed and I heard Daddy yelling at you, with you bursting into tears shortly. I opened the door to your room, and you came over to me, burying your face into me, hugging my leg, sobbing away.

We had a chat, mostly me asking you questions about what happened after Daddy gave me the low down. You had told me to ask Daddy what happened. Daddy said you smacked Quentin, and then hit him. Daddy had been waiting for an apology from you, but when you didn’t and still repeatedly hit him, he got angry.

I then talked to you about how hitting is not a good behaviour and I explained again about how you would feel if someone hit you, and how the other would fee if you hit them. Then you finally agreed to apologise to Daddy and Quentin. After you said sorry to Daddy, you cried. And you asked that I put you to bed and pat you to sleep.

When I did, I teared as I stroked your hair. I wondered what went through your head. And I told you this:

Oliver, the hardest word to say is sorry, because it would mean admitting that you are wrong. But you were brave to say it. Mummy and Daddy may get angry at you but it doesn’t mean we don’t love you, okay? 

You nodded, snuggled up to the side I was at and closed your eyes.

I teared cos I remembered asking you if you felt that mummy and daddy didn’t love you, and you nodded then. I wondered if you felt that way tonight. Now that our attention was split 3-ways, with brother and sister. I have been struggling with this, for the past couple of days. More so after you decided that you didn’t want to stay over at your grandma’s last night. You woke up at 7am this morning and you sorted yourself out till your grandma picked you up at 8.30am. Daddy got up in time to dress you and you went to church without breakfast. Fortunately, your grandma had a couple of slices of bread with her and you ate along the way.

I felt and still feel like the worst parent. Sleep always ends up winning, between waking up earlier to prepare breakfast for you and snoozing. But let’s try this year, I’ll try to be a better mom, and wake up when you are awake.

Like all other times, let’s try again this year. You and I. There’ll be a few changes, but I hope they will be for the better. Both you and I are growing a little older, and hopefully for the wiser. Bear with me, my little man. Okay?

Loving you is always a given. Never doubt nor question that.

Loving you to Jupiter & back,
me.

 

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