womanhood

a work in progress

Category: Letters to Aru (Page 2 of 3)

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Dearest Aru, (Early September, 2016)

Pure Love

Dearest Aru,

For the longest time, I’ve heard people say that children are innocent.
They’re pure love, pure reflections.

And I kinda get it now.

I get it.

Every need. Every nag. Every desire. Every quest of yours.

Has nothing to do with me.
It’s simply.

Pure.

And with that. I can love you better.
Accept you better.
The hoops you put me through.
The strains.
Gosh. The damn pains.

All better.
When I know.
You’re just.

Pure.
Love.

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Dear Aru (Late August, 2016)

My dearest.
My darling.

I’m off on Friday.
For 10 days.
From you.
From life and all it’s responsibilities.
To breathe.
To be.

But my darling.
How do I let go of what is etched upon me?
Who will chase you around corners?
Push you on the swing?
Let you eat a banana when you’ve got a snotty nose?

My darling.
Your outfits are going to be a mismatch.
Who will run tender fingers through your hair?
I’ll be free to visit the bathroom alone.
But what will you do?
Without me?

My Aru.
We’ve been buddies again lately.
Found our rhythm.
Our balance.
We got our love language back.

Just don’t miss me too much and I’ll do the same.

Then it’s back to you and me buddy.

And our little wonderland of love and pain.
Push and pull.
Baths and noodles.

Hang in there my sweet.

And look after your Papa.
It’s harder on him than you.
It’ll always be.

 

xx

Your Maa.

Sons. 

My darling Aru. 
Please cry. 

Please take cuddles in my nest. 

Please get angry and rest your head to the floor. 
Dear Aru, 

Please tell me your darkest thoughts. For then they will be “ok” for you to feel. 

Because it is all ok. 

Please know your body. 

Know that it is buzzing with energy. 

And all that energy needs to go somewhere. 
Dear Aru,

Please forgive me every time I’ve every manhandled you. 

Yes, it was in anger or frustration or exhaustion. 

And yes, it shouldn’t have happened. 

But know, I did it in the gentlest, most straightforward way possible. 

With the most compassion I had within. 
Dear Aru, 

A mistake is okay. 

An uncorrected mistake is not. 

Seek to learn, seek to observe yourself. 

Seek to change, adjust and be open.
Don’t let values from a childhood override your adulthood.

Simple values like bananas cause mucus. 

Complex values like more money leads to a happier life. 
You’ll recreate and adjust these values as you see life’s experience for yourself. 
And regardless of what you see and how you feel, 

I will always. 

Accept you. 

With open arms. 
X

K

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Dear Aru (early June, 2016)

You are becoming quite the little boy now. 

And slowly, my fears are shrugging themselves from my shoulders. 

My tension is releasing. 

The fear of doing you wrong. 

The fear of raising you wrong. 

The fear of the error. 
I know now. 

You’re quite okay. 

As perfect as perfectly okay can be.
So I seek less outside approval. 

I listen less to their judgment of you.
The questions of daycare, yes or no, firmer or softer, greens or chips, parks or iPads. I let these all rest. 

For my sweet, you are perfectly okay. 

You are more than okay. 
You are the little man who wakes up, seeks me from room to room till you find me. 

You are the little man who giggles to find my sleeping form in bed. 

And the first thing you do before you start your day, is snuggle to me.

For a fleeting moment. 
Before you’re off. 

To be you. 

To be wonderfully okay. 
Xx

Thanking you for your little gestures of love, so massive to a mother, they feel as radiant as the sun on my back on a Saturday afternoon in November, by the sea wall staring at the tide and feeling the salty spray. Thank you.  

With love, 

Your maa.

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Sons

My darling Aru.
Please cry.
Please take cuddles in my nest.
Please get angry and rest your head to the floor.

Dear Aru,
Please tell me your darkest thoughts. For then they will be “ok” for you to feel.
Because it is all ok.
Please know your body.
Know that it is buzzing with energy.
And all that energy needs to go somewhere.

Dear Aru,
Please forgive me every time I’ve every manhandled you.
Yes, it was in anger or frustration or exhaustion.
And yes, it shouldn’t have happened.
But know, I did it in the gentlest, most straightforward way possible.
With the most compassion I had within.

Dear Aru,
A mistake is okay.
An uncorrected mistake is not.
Seek to learn, seek to observe yourself.
Seek to change, adjust and be open.

Don’t let values from a childhood override your adulthood.
Simple values like bananas cause mucus.
Complex values like more money leads to a happier life.

You’ll recreate and adjust these values as you see life’s experience for yourself.

And regardless of what you see and how you feel,
I will always.
Accept you.
With open arms.

With love,
Your Maa.

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Worth it. (Dear Aru, early May, 2016)

Dear Aru, 

You’re not far from two now. 

And you’re in that zone. That place, so many parents dread and weave tales upon. 

Suddenly you’re up at 5am for a bottle. 

But when you grab a stool and land upon my bed, to straddle me and say “shek-see” AKA sexy, you’re worth it. 

When you kick my legs so your velcro shreds my Woolford stockings, I’m so sad inside. 

But then, you follow me around the house and within moments of me sitting cross legged, you find a way into my nest, waiting for a story to be read. And those stockings can go get shredded. 

You eat an apple and I can trace your steps all over the house because there are apple peel bits everywhere. But then you offer me a bite and I can’t explain. Only a parent would know. How this feels. A two year old, unable to put on his own socks, can affectionately give me a bite of his apple. I am enamoured. 

Darling Aru. 

You drenched the kitchen mat, put writing upon your Maa’s white walls and wouldn’t stop at her lime washed flooring.

Where do I begin with the ways you drive me insane? 

I clean your shit, the food you spray and spit from your mouth, I am up at midnight when you wake up from bad dreams, so much need they never know it defined being a mother. 

In some dark moments, I feel like an awfully kept maid. 

But darling Aru. 

Then you fall asleep in my arms, drinking every last drop of your milk. You won’t let the bottle go. Your eye lids are heavy, your face always goes round and chubby from that angle. 

And you look like. 

Heaven. 

And I know, I learn all over again. 

That it is worth it. 

Those moments of something close to hell. 

To give me this. 

Heaven.
X

K

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Dear Aru, (early April 2016)

Dear Buddha,
Now that I’ve started working more, I miss you more.
I realized my cap was 3-4 hours with you at a stretch. Maximum.
I’m just not built that way. The way that do a whole day.
The way that be happy keeping a home.
I’m sorry Buddha. I can’t give you a mum like that.
But you chose me, so I’m guessing you’re okay with it.
Darling Buddha. I miss you. On my way to Southern Cross station when I go down an escalator, I miss you.
When I see mums walking with their prams, I miss you.
When there are just the 3 of us, all adults at home, I miss you.
When I sit around, waiting for my next meeting and I browse through videos of you, I miss you. 
When tasting a new dish, I miss you.
And Buddha,
That is a good thing.

Xx
K

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Dear Aru (Early April, 2016)

My darling Aru. 

Somedays I’m scared you’ll actually have memories of being 2 years old. 

What will you think of me? 

Of the harsher moments? 

I want you to know. 

I have ignored you, when I wanted to dance a little longer to my tune of the moment. (Major Lazer, Light It Up in case you were wondering). 

Perhaps you’ll grow a little more patient. Perhaps I really needed that moment.

I have let you graze your knees while you were under my gaze. Willingly. 

In the knowledge, that it might teach you a thing or two about looking after yourself. 

Maa won’t always be around my sweet. 

I have giggled when you are in tears. 

A little splash of water won’t hurt you. 

But convincing you that you should never be splashed at, certainly would. 

My sweet boy, I let you taste the chilli. 

Sharp upon your tongue. 

Tears came streaming down. 

But now you know, when your Mama says “Tikhoo che” that is what she means. 

No lies here. 

Darling Aru. 

I have been grumpy at you, had fights with you when neither of us can comprehend the other. 

I want you to know, real life is like that somedays. 

Fights. Tears. Laughter and Cuddles. 

It’s all part of the dosa mix. 

I’ve left you in the company of others, let them feed you cakes, let them be firm with you, let them be ever so gentle with you. 

So you learn, that people will be different. 

Not everyone will feel and love like your Maa.
My dear Aru. 

Find a woman who knows how to dance and won’t be made to stop. Both figuratively and literally. 

Find a lover who doesn’t always give in. Have those fights and be true to your insides. 

Find a woman who won’t pamper you, it will be to your detriment. 

And my dear Aru, know that everyone is different, everyone will love you differently. But there is someone who loves you everyday, in the dull moments that span 365 days of the year, and in the exciting ones that span a Christmas weekend. 

That love. 

Is ordinary, everyday, extraordinary and wonderful. 

Find that love. For I have shown you what it looks like. 
Xx

Your Maa. 

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Letters to Aru (End of March, 2016)

Hey little Buddha

Don’t you listen to them

The ones who say no

The ones who say it can’t be done

The ones who say “That’s not how things work”

Don’t you listen them 

You be Mama’s little rebel 

You wear your hair the way that makes you proud.

You rock your high tops the way that makes you swagger.

You beat your drum to the beat of your heart. 

You defy them and believe in you. 

Because this dark world needs a little more of that. 
And don’t you fear my precious. 

You’ve always been cautious. 

Let your caution guide you. 

Because all you need is you to make it there. 

All that makes you.

My little Buddha. 

The world to come wasn’t made for those who tell you, “It’s never been done like this”. 

They’re yet to see the world to come.

You showed us that, and now, you’re to show the world. 

 
Xx

K

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Dear Aru (March 2016)

Hey little Buddha, 

Today you really did me in. 

All that whining and all that hair pulling, your nails uncut, cuts on my cheeks. 

We went from sago sauté to blueberries and raspberries. 

You pushed and pulled, from banana to paneer. 

There was nothing to fill your little tummy quite right. 

And I put everything on pause. 

Told myself to slow down. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

You were crying on the lime washed floors. 

I dread the evenings some days. No wait, let me specific. It is the dusk. That time, from 5pm till 6:30pm. Some days it can start as early as 4. When mealtime comes and you resist filling your tummy. 

I wouldn’t mind Buddha, I really wouldn’t. If you didn’t want to eat. 

It’s just that you’re like your Mamma that way. 

Hungry + Angry. For you my Buddha, it always equals Hangry. 
Buddha, I would be lying to say today was happiness. 

It wasn’t. 

Today was a bit of dread, mixed with a bit of struggle and then ending now, in a dash of sorrow. 

And I can see your Papa’s big, brown eyes. 

Filled with concern. 

Why isn’t my Karishma happy? 

This is motherhood, doesn’t she want it? 

Would it be a lie to say she always wants it? 
Of course little Buddha. Of course. 

Maybe we broke society a long time ago. 

Maybe we needed the mother-in-laws and the mothers and the brother-in-laws and the sisters to make it through the day. 

Because sweetie, for now, I just can’t seem to make it through the day. 
Hopefully, tomorrow is a new day. 

We’ll try lentil curry, gravy and soup.

Yes, perhaps that’ll do the trick. 

But for now, I’ll let these tears fall. 

Because only when they fall, will I make room for hope.
Xx Your Mamma. 

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