my mother is now a grandmother!
A few days ago, my mother was telling me about my nieces, the little cute Rara and Rere, who are about to start kindergarten. Because their parents have different financial circumstances, they may end up attending different schools. Rere wants to go to the same school as Rara. It makes sense, they are just two days apart in age, and children naturally assume that life will unfold side by side.
While telling me this, my mom also described how different they are. If they were given a choice to buy between a dress and pajamas, she said, Rere would know exactly what she wanted and stay true to that, even when you asked her again the next day. Rara, on the other hand, would struggle. She would want both, and she would hesitate. She would change her mind and she would become overwhelmed by the choice. My mother found this adorable. I found it familiar. She also noticed that both are different in personality. She jokingly described Rara as the more jealous type and Rere as the more surrender-type child.
Then she continued the kindergarten choice story. My mother told me that she had tried to comfort Rere by saying that Rara's school wasn't actually that nice anyway. She was excited when she told this. I sense that she's unknowingly proud or happy of how clever her grandchildren are and of how different their personalities already seemed. It was a completely ordinary conversation.
But something triggered me. The confusion of my lovely niece, Rara. Maybe because I see a little of myself in her. Maybe because we're both first-borns Her confusion feels strangely familiar to me.
Bravely enough, I told my mother about how I felt as a child, hoping she would understand where I was coming from. I told her, that when my sister and I went to different schools, I noticed and remembered those days. But I didn't remember anyone explaining why, or maybe because the little me simply didn't know how to ask the right questions.
I was about Rara and Rere's age too. Kindergarten. Far too young to understand the complexities of the adult world. All I remember is that I was wondering about things. Thinking about things. Feeling things. Without quite knowing what they meant.
My childhood memories come in fragments.
- A house with a swing and a big tree.
- My parents were fighting a lot. Shouting to each other. Blaming each other.
- My dad left the house.
- My mother tried chasing him.
- Being left waiting at school.
- My sister was being picked up by my mom's friend.
Moments that felt important but never came with explanations. I think I see the chaos, but I just could not understand it. It's strange to think about now. As children, I spend years surrounded by event we don't fully understand. Adults often assume children don't notice much. But I think I may have noticed almost everything.
- I notice who gets what.
- I notice differences.
- I notice when something feels unfair.
- I notice tension between adults.
- I notice absence.
- I notice change.
What I didn't have was context. So perhaps I started creating my own explanations. Without knowing, I try to make sense of things and sometimes the explanations I created are painful ones. The little me quietly concluded that my parents loved my sister more. I thought I wasn't important enough, and I might have believed things that were never actually true. I don't know. I only know that when I don't understand something, I rarely leave the blank space empty. I fill it with a story.
While my mother was talking about Rara and Rere, I found myself thinking about something else. I was thinking of how to fix this. I am sure that my mother was just trying to comfort a child, but I also wonder about the lessons they will absorb underneath this. Not the lesson my mother intends to teach but the lesson that Rara and Rere would quietly carry away.
For a long time, I thought I was simply a jealous sister, or a mean sister, or a sister who compared too much. Now I am not so sure. The older I get, the more I wonder where those things come from. Do children learn comparison the same way they learn language? Do children learn it from the stories they hear? From the explanations they're given? I have no f idea. I am not yet a parent, nor I am a psychologist. I am just someone looking back at the little me from a distance and noticing patterns I couldn't see before.
I told my mother that I grew up confused too. I wasn't trying to blame or criticize her. In my mind, I was making a connection. I was trying to explain why the story had affected me. But our conversation didn't really go anywhere. A little while later, she hung up. And after the call ended., I found myself thinking about how differently two people can experience the same moment. My mother was looking at her granddaughters and I was remembering my childhood. She was telling a story about kindergarten, I was thinking about all the questions I carried for years without answers. I think, neither of us were having the same conversation, even though we are talking about the same thing.
It is so weird to me that the older I get, the more compassion I have for my parents. When I was younger, I truly thought adults knew what they were doing. Now I realize most people are simply doing their best with the tools they have. My parents were navigating their own struggles, their own fears, their own limitations. And while I wish some things had been explained differently, I can also see that they were carrying burdens I knew nothing about. Both things can be true I can understand them more now and still wonder how those experiences shaped me.
I also wonder whether I would have grown up differently if more things had been explained. Not perfectly, just honestly.
- Maybe I would have spent less time comparing myself to other people.
- Maybe I would have understood my parents sooner.
- Maybe I would have been less confused. And I honestly don't know.
I do wish my mother and my sisters would explain to their grandchildren and children with honesty, with integrity that no matter their situation, sad, happy, poor, rich, confused, angry, they are still doing the best they could for them. No matter what. To build the bond from early age. To be imperfect. To have flaws. To accept. To embrace. To give. To receive.