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"Sweaters are things children are forced to wear when their mothers feel cold." I heard this gem from the clergyman who conducted my cousin's wedding years ago. And I laughed along with the rest of the congregation because I was guilty of burdening my children with warm clothing, even on hot days – just in case the weather changed later. I was reminded of these words as our youngest packed a bag for a weekend away at her friend's house last week. As I questioned her about the various items she had packed, top of my list, as always, was a sweater. I rejected the flimsy thing she showed me and insisted she carry a "proper" one. I know she probably didn't wear it but I felt better psychologically knowing I had done my duty as a mum to keep my young ones safe from the cold.
It is something that drives my family crazy but they know that for the sake of peace, they must comply. So whenever any of them is going out, I will ask: "Have you carried something warm?" regardless of what the weather is like. Sometimes the answer is a straightforward "yes"; other times it develops into an argument about how there is no way that scorching heat will turn into anything that requires "something warm". Perhaps it is because I so intensely dislike the sensation of feeling cold that I burden them like that.
Our older two give me a lot of flak about other "mum stuff" I did when they were younger that I do not really insist on with the youngest now. They often remind me that their daily routine was set in stone yet hubby and I allow the "baby" to get away with near-murder. Most Sunday evenings back in the day, we shopped for their school snacks – two packets of crisps and two packets of juice. These were treats and so they had to be chosen thoughtfully. The other three days were for 'healthy' sandwiches. After school, they came home and polished their shoes and packed their break time snacks in readiness for the next day before settling down to homework. At 7pm sharp, they laid the dining table and sat down to eat whatever had been prepared – whether they liked it or not.
They still remember the "black nyama" (aka liver), mushrooms and peas (what is it with kids and peas?) they had to endure. To this day, will not go anywhere near liver. About two years ago I cooked a nice goat liver stew and as I placed it on the table, I told the young ones I would pay anyone who ate just one piece. I made a very attractive offer and even showed them the hard cash. There were several minutes of silence while all three weighed the liver against the cash. In the end, my money returned to my wallet as they declared the "terrible" taste was not worth it!
After supper, the older two routinely had a cup of warm milk and said goodnight – we even had a routine for this – before going to bed. There was no TV until Friday and only after homework was done. One day, they thought they could outsmart me and switched it on to watch cartoons in my absence. When I walked in, they were sitting in front of it looking a little too casual. My instincts took me straight to the TV and I placed my hand on the back – sure enough it was hot! That day they went to bed believing two things: 1) their mother had super powers and 2) she was their punishment from God. They never tried that again to the best of my knowledge.
It must be true what people say about parents mellowing with age. Over the years our youngest has been allowed to bend and twist the hitherto cast in stone rules to suit her own tastes. Long after the family dinner has been laid out, she will be in the kitchen whipping up some exotic dish she found on YouTube (this is the same child who made custard from scratch by watching a "how to" online video) accompanied by strangely coloured drinks in a cup with a lid and a straw. She somehow negotiated with her dad a daily amount of money to buy her break time snack from school (she can do no wrong in his eyes) and so there is no Sunday evening shopping for "treats". And many are the times when I have found her awake when I get home late from the office, by which time I am too tired to argue. But the one thing I have absolutely refused to compromise is the sweater. When I am cold, she will wear one.
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