Parenting 101: Babies Grow Up

 

Honeydew Seeds

Once, I cut open a honeydew, scooped out the seeds and thought it looked too good for the food scrap bin. So I buried it in my vegetable patch. If nothing else, microorganisms would feed on the pulp and the seeds would be good for my soil.

The Accidental Seedling
An Accidental Seedling

A few days later, seedlings started to emerge. They were strong and vigorous. I separated and replanted them, and they thrived. In some ways, the ball of sweet pulp and seed hidden inside the honeydew reminds me of a mother’s womb, a secret place, safe and insular, primed for new life.

When I was pregnant, I watched my diet, refrained from alcohol, and fled cigarette smoke. I alone controlled what influences reached my child. The first few years of motherhood were physically exhausting, but emotionally rewarding. There were times when only I could quiet the baby. The baby didn’t want that toy, that book, that person; the baby wanted me.

But babies grow up and I was amazed at how quickly I was knocked off my pedestal. When they were toddlers, they happily allowed me to choose their library books. Now my literary recommendations to my teenagers are practically deterrents.

They have started to think for themselves and make independent choices. At first, it was alarming. This might be so for all parents, perhaps, but especially for the migrant parent, because apart from the generational gap, there is the culture gap, and it feels as if the child is venturing very far away.

But I quiet my fears and remind myself that they are children, not clones. Besides, I hope they will one day go beyond anything I ever dreamt of achieving. And to do that, they have to find their own way in the world and think their own independent thoughts.

It turned out that Adelaide weather is not suited to growing honeydew. Those promising seedlings shrivelled. But I had also started burying pumpkin seeds and two years ago harvested a bumper crop – around twenty pumpkins, no less!

pumpkin
My Pumpkin Patch

At the tail end of that pumpkin season, possums in my garden discovered that pumpkins are tasty, and that was the beginning of the end. I sprinkled chilli powder on a half eaten pumpkin, but that didn’t deter them, and might have enhanced their culinary experience instead.

And yet, I still work in my a small vegetable patch because nurturing new life makes me happy. While I cannot control the weather, and am constantly battling weeds and pests, I know that if I persist in creating a nurturing environment, good things will grow.

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Never refuse chocolate

It was mid-morning and Kom saw other students giving me food. It was comical; my little haul was surely too much to consume during a fifteen-minute tea break. Kom rummaged through his bag, pulled out a chocolate bar and offered it to me with a wide smile.

‘Oh, no thank you,’ I laughed. ‘I’ll grow fat.’

‘Don’t say that, teacher,’ he said, his eyes downcast, as if a great sorrow had descended upon him.

I had met Kom on my first day in my new job as a teacher. I was sitting in to observe a more experience teacher, who had asked everyone to write down three numbers each and get someone else to guess what those numbers referred to.

Kom looked at my piece of paper and said, ‘Husband?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘everybody has one husband.’ I realise this is not true, but for some reason, we both burst out laughing.

When Kom re-entered my class about three years later, the carefree laughter had gone. Things were not going well at home. His wife came in for my computing class one day with her tiny daughter in tow, a little girl with large, large eyes and two tight ponytails. Childcare arrangements were not yet in place.

‘Please, I have been home nine years looking after the children. I want to learn. Please let me stay,’ she said. I understood her anguish. I had known what it was to stay at home with beautiful children you love so much, and at the same time feel that the world is passing you by.

But we could not let her stay; management had made it amply clear that our insurance did not cover children on the premises. My boss came and told her kindly, but firmly, that she could not attend class with a child. The little girl started swiping her chubby fingers at my boss’ knees, trying to protect her mother. Kom’s wife was aghast, ‘No, don’t do that.’ And then they both went away.

And so Kom taught me that I should not refuse gifts and goodness. When so many troubles beset us in this world, we should celebrate kindness, accept generosity and be thankful. Sometimes you need to keep your eyes on the small good things, especially when the larger more difficult problems are too difficult to solve, just yet.

I took the chocolate bar. And thanked him.

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