Fairy Tale

I am at a point in my life where I am happily the designated fun aunt to a bunch of my friends’ babies. Most of them having taken the deep dive into motherhood in recent years and mostly unplanned, leaving me to be the cool fun aunt who plays and gushes while engaging in hare-brained baby talk. The most fun part of course being giving them back to their parents. Granted, when those ear-splitting tantrums start, I automatically turn into a magician and vamoose away.

Take for instance my good pal Judy. She had just started freshly dating and ended up pregnant by the end of the month. Contrary to her plans, her oven was ready to get to baking. I remember when she broke the news to me, I swore she was trying to pull a fast one on me because she had been so adamant against having them. And considering the totally undignified version of adulting that had ruled our existence, my personification of doubting Thomas was completely called for.

It’s so fascinating though, to watch her transformation into this responsible persona. There is such an air of tranquil maturity amidst the insanity of raising her baby girl and I more than applaud her for it. Never mind that she had been orphaned at an early age and brought up in a dysfunctional situation, never really understanding the depth and expectations of proper parenthood.

Yet her baby’s daddy is almost nonexistent. He ghosted as soon as the news broke about the unexpected turn of events, because how dare she deliberately get pregnant to try and trap his unemployed self? It was all just consensual unprotected sex after all. Because of this Judy had to additionally deal with strained family ties since single motherhood is so frowned upon. She was ostracized and cast away with baby in tow.

Still she adorns her superwoman cape and tends to tantrums of magnitude proportions, all the while being the sole care-giver, providing and trying to instill a sense of discipline in this millennial age.

It is in those instances when I witness her parenting journey that I grow nostalgic of the moments that as a young growing lady I didn’t appreciate how privileged I actually was having both parents in a home, albeit strict.

I remember when my mother would yell “go to your room” after administering punishment which would usually vary from throwing kitchen utensils at me to chasing me down with bath slippers. And I knew to hide in my room without so much as a squeak. Leave alone this new age parenting where kids are spoilt and punished by sending them to a corner for ten minutes. The inmates are running the asylum.

Courtesy of Judy’s parenting and advice from intrusive friends such as myself, her baby girl is learning what is expected of her. Ladylike mannerisms, she called them. She is living proof that there only needs to be a test and women will rise to the occasion; no matter how heavy the disturbance the cream will always rise to the top.

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