It’s that time of the year again.
Mid October is the time when I start to get a strangely helpless feeling which dispenses as a hollowness in my abdomen. The panic is setting in and I don’t know what to do.
Next month the earth would have made another complete revolution around the sun since we last celebrated the day I gave birth. It has nearly been 5 years from that momentous event and I’m panicking not because I’ll be having a bunch of 5-year olds running around in my house while I desperately try to entertain them with games and activities I’ve been planning for two months in advance. That for me is the fun part. No, I’m panicking for a different reason. His birthday means another year has been added to his age. I can no longer say he’s 4 and something, I have to say he’s 5 and the day after he’ll be 5+.
Where any other mother would be ecstatic that her child had completed another year, for me the question in my mind is “DID I DO ENOUGH?”
Should I have enrolled him in that football class I’ve been thinking about or found out about guitar lessons. He’s already 5, what skills does he seem to have that will help him succeed in life? He hasn’t learnt to read yet, should I have tried harder and pushed him to try harder too. Should I have spent more time with him? Did I do enough? Till when can I say, “He’s only xyz years old, he’ll learn this later.” Was I a good mother and did I do enough?
When I was working, I used to have an appraisal at the end of the year in which my boss would sit down with me and tell me where I did well and where I needed improvement. We would fill out a form and sign it. It was comforting to see it written down in black and white. I wish someone would do an appraisal for me now and tell me how I’m doing and where I need to improve.