<blockquote>"Dear Son, spelling for occasions – you spelt them occassions a number of times. Should amend asap."</blockquote>
My mum sent me this through the contact form of Tribolum. An accountant almost all her life, it's her nature to notice these small details and point them out to me.
Like me, she's changed so much over the years too. I remember her in my childhood – a young mother who was extremely anxious over her firstborn son who refused to do his homework. I can only imagine the amount of stress I brought into her life. Teachers calling up my home every other day to bring her news of what homework I still owed them. Mum was so young and so helpless, not having a clue about how to deal with a child so difficult and unresponsive.
These days she's the epitome of cool. She doesn't bother with my younger sister, who's now in her teens. So much so that we begin to worry if the new laissez-faire style of parenting were a tad too confident in time's restorative abilities. I'm learning a little from her how to relax when it comes to my sisters. I too have the tendency to worry too much and micromanage every small facet.
Min and I were just talking about Dad this afternoon, and I brought up one interesting fact: In all my twenty-five years of living with the man I've never heard him complain when made to do something for his family. Not once. I've woken him up early in the morning to send me to school on occasion (spelt correctly this time, Mum). He merely gets up, hair still ruffled, fumbles for the car keys and we're off.
If there's anything I want to inherit genetically, it would be his tolerance and love for his family.
I hope I've become someone they can be proud of, because I'm awfully proud of them.

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