Maaaaaaaaaa

I always thought these mother-son movies were so cliched. I thought it was disgusting how a woman could cling to her adult son with steel claws and not let go till her last breath (with a dramatic "dannnnggggg!") . To panic when a wife came into the scene - afraid she would steal the son. I never understood that kind of emotion. But I do now. I do not advocate it...nor do I expect to grab my son's leg and be dragged out of the house as he walks (er...shuffles) away with his brand new bitchy wife.

All I'm saying is that now i finally understand how those women feel. I understand the need to be his favorite person in the world. The need that wants him to come running to me no matter how many favorite uncles/grandmas are waiting behind with mysore pak and chocolate chip cookies. The need to be the only one he will eat from. I feel hurt when he refuses to take a spoonful from me, but happily slurps away when one of the grandmas feed him. Irrational. I should be happy he's eating. Instead I mentally repeat the mantra "If you eat when paati feeds you...you are so going to get whacked". So weird.

I've decided to make a conscious effort to let go as he grows up. But its going to be very very hard. I can't even bear to put him in a playschool. How on earth will I ever let him go to school, college ..and then god knows where else. What if he wants to live with the Sherpas and experience mountain life? Or with the Aborigines to see what it's like to hang out in grass skirts? How can I let go? I've got to.

Or maybe I'll just teach him everything he needs to know at home, never introduce him to other people, pretend that our house is the whole world. Like the Truman Show. That would work right?