Toughest Role

You and I have many roles. Wait, why am I writing as if I still have an audience to write for? Must be the two decades of journalistic journey I had. One can't shake it off that easily.

Assume a role and it doesn't go away even when I've had not had a career as a journalist career the past half a decade.

Roles are what we take on. And today, my whine, my rant, my cathartic outburst shall be over my toughest role to date.

From my earliest memory, I was a sister. Since the time I was aware of what's around me, I've had two younger sisters -- the twins.

There never was a time when I remembered being an only child, so I've never grumbled then about my siblings' existence. Though later, when more came along, I did. I told mom that it wasn't fun for me that she has so many kids. There's less of everything to go around. That's my rationale.

So my earliest role that came to mind, being a sister.

Being a daughter didn't seem to imprint itself on me very much as a child. Could it be because I didn't need to manage the old folks then? Perhaps.

When mom and dad were splitting up, however, it was a role that bothered me. I felt helpless as a child, seeing my parents' marriage falling apart and yet without the authority to make them get back together, much as my siblings and I wanted them to.

So, some roles in life meant we have little say in how we want the outcome to be.

I enjoyed being a granddaughter, though. Being smart and respectful meant I was loved by my paternal grandparents. They weren't the kind to shower us with hugs and kisses but their love for me was evident. My maternal grandmother I saw less of, but it was good to hear her tell her friends that I'm the clever granddaughter. What irked a little was also how, in the same breath, she'd describe me as the "gua soon" in Hokkien, meaning maternal granddaughter. But the "gua" means "outside" or "foreign" and I understood that as to mean I don't belong. Odd.

Being a niece was great too. My maternal aunt was always showering my sisters and I with gifts of candies, Mickey Mouse watches, clothes, when we visit annually. Till today, she's my favourite aunt, someone I'd go a long way out for.

In my teenage life, it was so wonderful to be a girl, yet this role came with a lot of angst as well. I wasn't as pretty as others, What can I do? Nothing. Argh. But wait, I could be witty. And smart.

As a girlfriend, I was on cloud nine. The first time I was loved for being me, right? Parental love seems to pale in significance.

Being cared for is as great as caring for someone who belongs only to me.

My marriage cemented that role, turning me into a wife. The daughter-in-law role came hand-in-hand. Many days, this was not a fun one to be in. I had a very supportive husband and that made the daughter-in-law role an easier one to stomach. SF was always fair to his parents, and his tack was to tell me to let them be.

At work, I'm a colleague, a friend, a subordinate and a superior. Those roles I take on with gumption, especially as a subordinate.

I've gone all over the world, and now here I am, in the toughest role I've taken on -- as a mother.

A mother should be nurturing, pushing her child to experience the world, seeing the good side and being the shoulder to carry on when the not-so-great side hits.

A mother grooms her child into the best that she can be, and someone that society respects, someone other mothers want their kids to emulate, and later someone other mothers want for their sons to marry.

In this respect, I may have failed. I've taken on that role twice over. And I'm not coming out anywhere near a C, never mind a B, on producing a child whom people respect.

Cleanliness and hygiene are my priorities at home but no, the elder girl thinks otherwise. The fear I had in venturing into the room was always the fear that I would be "discovering" some unknowns stashed away under the bed, in the wardrobe. I've seen a whole box of candy wrappers, empty cans of tuna and moldy bread in there. Who can fault me for shivering when I step in?

Update

Since writing this post in 2017, and not publishing it, I've seen some positive changes in the elder girl. Is it maturity? I pray that's the case. I can now rely on her to keep her bedroom cleaner. I nag and she gets on it. She still has books on the floor, but clothes in the wardrobe are neater now.

The point I always make is this -- how can a roommate or a spouse tolerate the daughter I've brought up? Will her co-workers like working with her as a teammate?

Hence, the need to be a tough and unwavering mother, my toughest role to date, in ensuring my daughters grow up to be society-valued and well-respected and easily-loved people. Being God-fearing may be one way to start.

Mommy loves you girls a lot.