Parenting is a tight rope walk, balancing the adoration of unconditional love with the sheer inconvenience of being utterly and totally responsible for another human being, or three. The job description - a blue line - is fiercely inadequate, inbox is fathomless, there are precise requirements for what goes in to what comes out, responsibilities cover from what and how organic/trendy it's clothed in, to how functional it's internal parts are, status of emotional well being, and whether you're banking on a Hutt Valley High, or Harvard. Even when these children aren't immediately in the vicinity of your being, they constitute a constant worry. They are a whop-arse can of hassle.
Many, including myself, would say it's worth it, of course, for the love. The joy, the love, the way they snuggle into your innermost heart and stimulate a flood of love-a-mones from that primeval set of neurons set to recognising and adoring a miniature yet cooler version of yourself. For the egotistical, there is always the small possibility, the chance, the far flung idea that your reconstituted set of genetics and nurturing attention to organic reusable nappies and omega-3 may just bring forth the next Mandela/Sam Morgan/Lorde.
For the vestigual child in me, though, there are times when it's just so good to get my own back. Even with my own children. Those little victories that remind me that I still have the upper hand, that the slave is also the master. Some examples?
I guess banana mixed with avocado mush food for a baby was one of my first small twinges of joy. Huh! Spot the veges in that! (That's for keeping me up all night.)
Confiscating their Halloween sweets (too much sugar for those precious teeth) and then scoffing them all in the bath after they've gone to bed at night.
Convincing them that the TV only works on rainy days.
As they get older they learn about electricity grids and suchlike, but that only increases the challenges of maintaining the percieved upper hand. I'm not unkind or autocratic about it. I love and respect their autonomy and ability, right from the start, to be masters of their own destiny, and people in their own right.
However I was rather thrilled the other night with a small victory in this miniature and imagined arena - I'm still patting myself on the back while chuckling at my slyness. For it is the stuff of legends - I am she, the Mum who convinced her happy children that desert consisted of a chocolate treat when it was also, and actually, a worm tablet.
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