My Parents Are Humans
My mother is an amazing woman— she was a homemaker almost all of motherhood, and managed to raise 3 daughters whom I, must humbly say, are pretty decent. We didn’t get into much trouble (more on this later), and now in our adulthood, we understood the importance of giving back to our parents.
My dad’s naturally a free-spirited man, often wandering off to explore, leaving us to wait awkwardly at the edge of crowds, trying not to get in someone else’s way. Yet, he gave us stability — food on the table everyday, and a roof over our heads.
Were my parents the perfect dad and mum? As expected, the answer is: no. There were times when I resented the decisions they made, the hurtful remarks and the ways they communicated their love for us — you know, the typical Asian-style that’s difficult to be appreciated in the moment.
Recently, I asked my mum a question on the car: what had she done as a mother, would she advise against if we were to become mothers ourselves?
Her answer was: never quarrel with your husband in the presence of your kids.
I was asking for an answer from her, yet I was surprised to get one. More often than not, we forget that there is a person behind the parent that we know of. While we watch our parents try to attend to the day-to-day problems and responsibilities (no thanks to us kids), we don’t realise that there could be nights where they lie in bed, reflecting upon their lives as parents, or even their lives before us.
I don’t blame my parents for this gap here — they had too much on their plates to think about proper communication with us. Moreover, traditional Asian parenting is a complicated mix of hierarchy and unspoken tough love.
You see, we’re living in different times now. The problems that our parents faced were not the same as what we faced now. I grew up hearing people talk about work-life balance and environmentalism, but my parents’ times were about working hard and making ends meet, or so I assume. You may think that I’m comparing apples and oranges, but my point is : our parents were molded differently from us.
Sometimes, what our parents say to us can be pretty toxic, but remember, we ourselves can be toxic to people around us too. Our individual complex mix of values, beliefs and perspectives make us different from one another, and these differences will bring friction to our relationships.
My relationship with my parents is still a work-in-progress, and it will always be — which is really a kind of… beauty. Having spent the two decades of my life seeing my parents as ‘my papa' and ‘my mummy’, I’ve now recognised then as persons of their own — rich with their own childhoods and experiences. There still are arguments here and there, I cannot deny, but I’m learning to accept them as they are.
Sometimes, I ask my parents ridiculous questions like “would you want a son?”, I absolutely enjoy the pause they take to think — the short moment when they look like themselves, not just my parents.
