I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence or not, but lately it happens more and more to me to come across subjects with or about kids. And I’m fascinated by them, I can’t wait for the time when I will turn gray around my temples because of my own ;)
I’ve talked about children before, about their dwarves sighs or about their more mature “oh!”‘s, but today I feel like talking about parents. Some wonderful (like mine, hihi!), others… banal, others demonic (Alas, they too are called parents…).
I can understand the overwhelming desire of parents for their kids to be good, or the hope that their offspring will do better than they did. What I can not understand, however, are the same desires and hopes, transformed into pathological obsessions. Parents who want their children economists when they are passionate about music. Parents prohibiting their children to wear “shroud”, although this is how their favorite outfits look like. Parents who have seizure attacks when a piercing appears, or when they see a more “punk” haircut. And finally, parents who do not understand the desire of their children to be unique, different, to have their own style, to manifest and evolve in their own way. I totally agree, a fairly high percentage of children left “on their own” do not become model citizens; on the contrary. But both are extremes and extremes are ALWAYS to be avoided.
I’ll never be able to understand parents who want atonement of their own sins and mistakes through their children’s lives. “If I was an idiot and I didn’t know how to take care of myself or to open my eyes, and I found myself with a kid and alone at 20 years, my daughter will certainly be a nun, or I’ll let her marry at 40 years old!” A bit exaggerated, but you get the idea …
I’d still have on my tongue some other questions related to children or their parents. But they tickle me pleasantly just where they are, and I’ll leave them there. What troubles me is the vicious loop between generations. Meaning: parents always feel that they screwed it up big time. But they do not care anymore. They always alleviate themselves with the thought “eh! my life is crap anyway, and it’s already gone! I lost my chance. But my child… My child will be the best! For him/her I am sacrificing myself for good, I do not count anyway.” And the children, as they are small, they are superb. But once mature or just on the edge of adulthood, ready to walk towards it, they DO NOT get to be the best! They screw it up just as big time, and thus all hope of their parents, all their sweat, all their sacrifice was in vain. And the same children, once they turn parents themselves, they sacrifice themselves as a living flame on the altar of sacrifice for their children, thinking the same thoughts and putting the same hopes as those before them. Et, voila! The vicious circle closed!
And then, what’s the point? Why do we keep sacrificing ourselves, when only in very few cases our desires and hopes really fulfill? When will THAT perfect generation come, when the kids will be the best, and parents will feel they have sacrificed themselves with a purpose, that they fulfilled themselves and they fulfilled their own hopes and desires through their kid’s lives?
Șoapte...
Tags: children, crying child, pencil drawing, personal train, portrait
