Here is a pet peeve of mine. People make choices – what irks me is the justification for these choices. When there is a choice, a person takes what works for them better – period.
You could be a person who analyzes everything to death or be someone who makes a choice rather quickly, and lets life unfold. Whatever it maybe, I don’t like the approach of : “I take the high road because I am smarter”
Some choices turn out to be smart ones, some don’t. The important thing is to feel comfortable with the choice when the option to choose is given to you.
I was reading this morning about parenting, and again got me thinking. Guess what? I am not an ideal mother. I am irritable, I sometimes take shortcuts with my child’s food (soup is enough I declare – but that’s only because I don’t have the energy that day to get her to eat spinach and rice!). But overall, I am okay. My child and I enjoy each other’s company – well….let’s leave it there shall we? Did I make a highly intelligent choice when I initiated my daughter into reading? No! I just did what I enjoyed doing, and did it with her. Consequently, she started liking books. Instead of saying this, I could ramble on about the research that proves reading makes the brain more stimulating – guess what? I just alienated myself! Sometimes, we all make choices that may not prove to be ideal.
I hate the way parents obsess about the colds their children catch from other kids, the share and play mentality, the gentle approach – the swim class, the dance class. I may take my daughter to dance and swim classes in the future, and if she likes it, and sticks to it long enough, why not? But if at that point, you catch me talking about what a wise choice I made with the swim and dance classes – do me a favour and stop me will you? This sort of thing is infectious and the more I meet mothers, the better the chances are that I start talking like this!
I headed home from work with such a determined mind that day, that I was going out for dinner. This happens often, but what else I had made my mind about was the fact I was not going to set foot in the kitchen that lovely Friday evening! Dinner plans were made, and we set out amidst certain excitement that comes with getting your child to stop cycling outside, and wearing something nice.
We arrived at the haute restaurant and waited for an hour outside clutching out tickets in our hands, waiting for our turn with the menus. We finally went in and sat, and when the waiter busied himself with notepad and pen to take down our orders, we gave him the first order of the evening. A special order – nothing on the menu.
A boiled egg we asked with as much nonchalance as we could muster. The sure footed waiter faltered, he stammered for a response, and said – “a-a b-boiled egg?” Yes, we beamed. I stepped in and comforted him with the assurance that I would be ordering something from the menu. “We love your food“, we told him before he broke out sobbing. I could see the pride in his restaurant shattered in his eyes.
You can take my daughter to the fanciest restaurant with the most fantastic menus, but of late, what satisfies her immensely is a boiled egg. We all ate our favourite dishes, and handed a special tip to our waiter who had gone through considerable difficulty obtaining the boiled egg from the seasoned chef.
Everytime I step into Coldstone Creamery, and order a small plain vanilla icecream, I go through a similar experience. Don’t blame them – check this out!
My husband and I talk minimally these days. No, we are not having a row. We are on perfectly good terms.
I finished the 7th Harry Potter book and he hasn’t.
Given my abyssmal track record of keeping secrets, we have mutually agreed to not talk (about it) till he finishes. But talk about it till he finishes became difficult because he is curious, and asks leading questions and before I know it…another oops moment!
So, dear hubby and I love each other, and don’t talk to each other! No one but J.K.Rowling could have done that!
BTW, hubby dear, you do realise we get insecure if we aren’t exercising the jabbering old mouth – so before we become really insecure, READ THE BOOK!
PS: This is also my 100th post.