Next week, my oldest and my youngest celebrate their birthdays. She turns 17 and he 2. My children's birthdays are a time to pause and contemplate the people that they are. Where they are, and where they've come from. The evolution that has taken place since we last counted candles (metaphorically speaking, because we don't do candles anymore, but that's another story). I try to consciously consider them not as 'my children', because that carries with it too much subjectivity, too much bias, but as individuals in their own right.
Wafa. A passionate young woman, with much ambition and drive. This last 12 months, I have seen her flourish; she has the courage of her convictions and is tirelessly and persistently working towards them. She is much more willing to vocalise her views publicly, and has spoken at her first rally. She is less fraught about having to explain her beliefs, having accepted that its not something she should have to do but rather, she can choose to if she so wishes. She can debate (I would say argue, but I'm sure she would prefer I said debate) her way out of any situation, and often proves her points eloquently and convincingly, which is why I think a career as a lawyer or human rights activist would be quite fitting. And she is still the queen of hyperbole (she's been wearing the crown for a good few years now!) and has kvetching down to an art (just kidding, sweetheart :) ) .
She's cognizant of her strengths, and even more so of her weaknesses, which can be counterproductive at times, but better that than arrogant.
Wafa is clever, charismatic and beautiful. She still doubts my compliments because I'm her mum, but I'm not the only person who thinks as much. I'm hoping that once she transitions from high school student, to university student and has the opportunity to see her reflections in many more environments, she will be more willing and able to see what I see.
Taj. A little man in a toddler's body is how I could best describe him. He has boundless inquisitiveness that he's constantly trying to feed. Like his eldest sister, he seems to require very little sleep, and can function optimally and energetically on as little as 8 hours. He already has a well-developed sense of self, and is more than capable of asserting himself whenever he wants to. I guess, being the youngest child, his survival instinct is very strong.
Taj is also clever, charismatic and beautiful. He believes me though, when I tell him, and repays me smiles of agreement, hugs and kisses. That's the nice thing about babies. They haven't yet been jaded by the harsh inhabitants of this world. Sadly, I know Wafa has, and despite my desperate want to shield her, I didn't always succeed. She's learning how to deal with those people in her own way, using her own resilience to deflect and rise above it.
Birthdays are also a time to reflect on my own parenting, in the hope that it continues on an upward trajectory. I know I don't always get it right and I'm as flawed as the next mum irrespective of how well-intentioned I might be. But I also know that I love my children more than anything in this world, and that they will always come first, come what may. I know that my parenting can often be seasoned by my own experiences and that I need to be able to recognise and change that, if its unhealthy. I also recently learnt, from a very wise person, that I can't be mum and dad and should stop trying to be. It's easier said than done, because one thing I do know about myself is that I can be a bit of a control freak.
I'm also taken back to their births. Contrasted, they were vastly different experiences, and I was a vastly different person each time; the 19 year old version is barely discernible to me, she seems such a stranger now. When I read some of my diary entries from around that time, I find it hard to find anything at all in common with that naive and hopeful child. To think that she was about to embark on the biggest life event and that her world would forever be changed is both awe and anxiety inspiring. I wish I could go back and assure her that she will be okay. That despite all that destiny would throw at her, she would get through it and emerge a more knowing woman.
And the mother of Taj, far more recognisable, I would tell her to savour every second of it, because it will (God-willing) be the very last time. Every kick, every contraction, that newborn perfume, the euphoria that only nursing can trigger- they will all be lasts. But never forgotten. Always treasured, and kept ready for retrieval when it gets overwhelming or lonely. Memories to take with me to next place, to remind them of the blessed and the beautiful times here.
Happy birthday darlings. May you both live fabulous lives, ones that you can be proud of and remember with fondness and love.
