Sabr

I want to breastfeed whenever and wherever I feel like it. I don’t have time for excuses like, “Hang on a minute, I just have to check the stove” or “Let Ummy go to the toilet and THEN you have some ne-ne.” and the worst, “Let’s wait until we get home.” I’m sorry but it just isn’t good enough. I want what I want and I want it NOW. Honestly, am I asking for too much?

Look. It’s not rocket science. I can’t talk! So of course I can’t tell her exactly what I want and anyway, she’s my MOTHER. She should KNOW what I’m thinking every minute of the day. I mean is she deliberately trying to be difficult? When I say “Noonoo” sometimes it means noodles, other times it means rice. How hard is that to figure out? And when she gets me the wrong thing, I can’t very well tell her, “Excuse me, mother dear but I believe I asked for the other thing.” All I can manage is a scream and throw myself on the floor in a display of histrionics that would put the Australian Shakespeare Company to shame. It’s my only form of communication.

And another thing while I’m at it, she leaves things lying around all the time. I’m a TODDLER – I get into things. I like breaking things. It’s part of my job description. Why does she get so annoyed with me when SHE was the one who left it there in the first place? Are you seriously trying to tell me the chair is there in the vicinity of the table and I’m not supposed to climb onto the chair and then onto the table?!
Gosh! What is this privacy thing she keeps talking about? I poo in my nappy all the dang time and I do it no matter where I am or who is around. People can stare me in the face mid-turd and I wouldn’t batter an eyelid. She could learn a few things from me.

I know I’m demanding but it isn’t like she hasn’t gone through this with the others. Surely she could be a little more understanding and not so short with me. I think she’s trying because sometimes I hear her behind the door crying and saying, “Ya Allah please give me sabr.”

Ya Allah please give me sabr to deal with my mother.