It was my son’s last day in school. I woke up at 6.30 a.m., as I have been doing for the last fourteen years, knocked on his door, and said: “Wake up, it’s time for school.” But this was the last day I would be doing it. He was going for his shirt signing ceremony and bid farewell to his teachers.
The nightmare of the 12th board exams was just a month away, but that wasn’t on his mind or mine. We both grinned at each other: he, because he was looking forward to this special day, and I, because I was trying to hide my confusion. The fifteen-minute drive to Sanskriti School was over all too soon. I wanted to hug him but you don’t hug a seventeen-year old boy near the school gate.
The next few months dragged on with the board exams sapping us of physical and mental energy. Long hours of tuitions, tantrums, tears and tension. Somehow he and the rest of the family survived the ghastly month long exams and the stress over the results. That too has come and gone by. For the first time in many years, the summer vacation was one without any holiday homework. No charts to be made, no lessons to be learned, no reading lists, no mugging up of theorems and poems.
I am happy that I don’t have to be a slave to the alarm clock anymore. Those cold winter mornings when I want to snuggle deeper into the duvet, instead of waking up a groggy kid, cajoling and bullying him to go to school are a thing of the past. No more sports days, parent- teacher meetings, annual days, charts to be made, costumes to be altered, poems to be learned, homework to be checked, recitation contests, debates, tears over competitions lost, high fives over races won, report cards, uniforms, pick up and drop times, bruises, friends, stay-backs and sleepovers. Did I really want this to end?
I have waited to be free to do girly lunches, to not stress over teenage angst, to step into the gym without wondering if the chart on freedom-fighters of India had to be submitted the next day, to wonder what next to pack for a school lunch, to darn the uniform, to leave on outstation assignments without feeling guilty of missing his football match, without having to beg out of umpteen reunions, weddings and birthday parties because there were unit tests, exams and tummy aches.
Now, I am free, and, have no idea what to do with that freedom. I meet with mothers who sob about leaving toddlers with strangers in pre-school and look back at my days then. I wept profusely and had to be literally dragged from the gates of the school. I hid in the bushes and watched as my little one hesitatingly walked to his classroom holding the finger of his teacher. Been there, done that. Still hurts.
I remember his first swimming lesson at St. Columbas. I pleaded with the instructor to watch out for my son. Just two instructors handling fifty-three boys in a pool, all five-year-olds! How in heaven’s name could this be safe? I was gently told that it had been safe for forty years and would be safe for the next hundred and forty.
Tennis and piano lessons, holidays when he was sick to the stomach and I was sick with worry, are a thing of the past. He flits in and out of the house without seeking permission, fixes his breakfast, the hugs are fewer, but so are the complaints. Do I miss them? Yes, of course. But like a homing pigeon, he occasionally wrestles with me or teases me over a collapsed cake or a funny article. The sibling fights are fewer. I am not called in for arbitration. There is no need to be the Tiger mom anymore.
Both of them are out of school and I am free from the tyranny of timetables and structured days and nights. The rules are fewer and the flexibility has increased. I just have to learn to enjoy that ‘me-time’ that has suddenly come upon me. Sometimes freedom is difficult to handle. A part of me wants to go back to being tied. As the poet Robert Browning said, “So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!”
About Smita Prakash: Smita is the Editor News, at Asian News International (ANI), India’s leading Multimedia News Agency and the India Correspondent for Channel News Asia, a Singapore based broadcaster.
In a journalistic career spanning almost two decades, she has reported for NPR News America, NHK Japan and many other foreign broadcasters on news stories from the field in India. Besides developments from India, be it elections, calamities, political developments, international events or other breaking news stories, this involved covering many of the world’s most dangerous conflicts and devastating events during this period.
Check out more about her at Smitaprakash.com
I had so looked forward to and have bbeen enjoying the me-time for some years now. Enjoyed reading your write up 🙂
Smita, every thing you described seemed like a film rerun, some parts being sad, others nostalgic, exciting, hilarious, full of tensions,……….where me, a single father decided to bring up my son as his mother would have (although mothers can never ever be substituted but I tried). My son was just 7 when his mother lost her battle to cancer. This is when I decided to be his mother first, then a friend and last his father, attending as you described parent-teacher meetings, class friend’s birthdays, charts, sleep-overs, stay-backs. Sometimes, I did feel terrible when some mothers would whisper “bechara” – a word I hate even today. Now, I am free (perhaps in my thoughts only) as he has finished his graduation from Mumbai and now on his way to UK for higher studies. Thinking back, sometime I do yearn for those days when his mother would cry incessantly watching him walk inside school compound…….well thanks Smita for bringing those memories alive again. I loved every moment reading it 🙂
> mothers can never ever be substituted but I tried
Ashok, nor can fathers who are as important to a child’s development as a mother. Don’t underestimate your importance to your child, I am sure you have already proven that to yourself.
Thank you for your words of appreciation Ashok. Your journey was more arduous than mine. Being a parent is a tough assignment and a single parent, more so. Well done, and congratulations on raising a good child. Enjoy his success and your ‘freedom’. Regards.
Smita
Each word describes what went between me and my mom. 100 Thanks for writing this piece.
The only difference is that i am now a little older than 17 and live in a different city, away from my mother.
Though what I hv learned today is the importance of watching starr plus and early morning yoga; which now she does when she is free from my time Table.
Satyam, thank you for reading. Hope your mom is enjoying her ‘me-time’. Best wishes.
Smita,
Wonderful write up. Am a mother of two for whom the rigamarole of schools, charts and early morning tantrums have just about begun. Yes, there is absolutely no ‘me-time’ and you article had me wondering (in part, yearning) what it would be like when I would reach your phase. However sensing the undertone in your article, I take it that I have to learn to enjoy each minute of this phase, for this too will pass soon. 🙂
Smita,
My son is just 3 and i already miss his toddler days, when he wanted me to hold him while walking, feed him, play with him… although i had wanted to be hands free so i can have my me time but still miss those things and as i said he is just 3… just loved your article…
regards
Jainee
My son is 6 yrs old and expected for second little angel.Your sharing really touch me and inspire about the role of the parents and their struggle for own time.Now-a-days doctor instructed me to take rest at home and take a break from job due to some medical reasons and i have few hours for myself .In these few hours ,i really struggle for what to do and…….
from your sharing I m really seen you at the space of satisfactions and happiness for your son’s student life with new beginning of nice start for yourself.
Thanks a lot for sharing your mother-son life.
WOW Smita mam .. that piece of writing touched my heart .. as a flimsy teenager suddenly turned adult, I think my Mom would voice the same things.. Kudos to all the mothers who work so hard for their kids, but never complain! We seem to treat it like a part of being there and growing up and look at you as if it’s your responsibility. But I know someday we would be in your shoes and maybe we’d do all that you do.. Till then congrats on being a great mother.
You deserve the free time 🙂
*hats off*
Yes u said it right..sometimes i do fear of freedom. My son is 6yrs old. I miss his toddler age. He says ” I love u mamma” every now and then or responds whenever I say it to him. But he becomes conscious when someone is around. He never says those in front of anyone even though they are our close relatives. He comes to me and whispers it so that no one hears that. I really want to enjoy all the cutest things he does till I get freedom.
Nice Article Smita
hi Smitha ..my kids and husband tease me on how I start waking up my son ,Aaaadityaaaaaaaaaaaa !
( he is aditya ) .Then, when the time is still 6 am …. I tell him it’s 6.45 and his bus must have already left !!!
now when I read ur article ,it’s like yeah , one day will come when I will miss waking him up 🙂
The way u wrote , I just peeped into my future ….
cheers for ur me time 🙂
@confusedsoul oh we do complain, we are only human no? 🙂 @Swetha oh yeah, those charts! phew! exhausting @anupama I still wake up at 6.30 in panic that I haven’t woken up my son! @jainee thanks 🙂
Beautiful piece Smita. Made me sit up and think what my mother would have go through when we siblings finished school and stepped out of the city for further education. Thank you. Its a beauty.
fully empathize with you.
smita good afternoon
Most succinctly put. And no it’s not only the mom, its the free time for dad too. I *envy* you, as I have many more years to go.