One of the paradoxes of motherhood is that whilst you are afforded the privilege of a ready audience, there to receive your performances at will, performing is more often than not such an onerous task that you really don't want to do it.
In the early days, I was both amazed at my little listener (my very young and extremely alert daughter Wafa) and grateful to her for being so unconditionally attentive. She listened to me sing, tell stories, talk nonsense, proofread my essays, and even vent in g-rated rafa-speak about the utter loneliness I felt in a failing marriage. She listened, wide-eyed, looking permanently interested, and even grateful herself for the observant company.
12 years on, and my listener, along with her siblings, seem to be all listened out. Perhaps its because the content is rerun a little too often, or that its all too familiar now, all very old. Or perhaps, just perhaps, its because much of what I say is directive guidance which can sometimes be received as me 'lecturing'.
Yes, I admit, I feel like I have slowly morphed into the nagging mum I'd sworn I'd never be, which has ultimately, put a real dampener on my desire to perform/speak. I don't even want to be an audience for myself, sick to death of my own voice and its constant 'do this' and 'don't do that'. Which is something, 12 years ago, I would never have thought possible...
