Hey Mum! Yes you middle-aged woman with those orange spectacles, this post is for you. Not that I’m going to shower praises and gratitude upon you, far from that, actually. And everyone else reading this will bear a living testament to my words, not that the internet already hasn’t it saved, but still.
Firstly, you were not supposed to read my posts until I told you to. You betrayed my trust in doing that( not actually but it did give me a shock). There are people out there who would let their mothers read their posts before anyone else, but I am not one of them. And it wasn’t that I wasn’t going to let you read at all. I just wanted everything to settle, for me to get familiar with the blogging world and then I would have let you in to the secret. But you had been reading my posts since probably the first day, and all this while I had been made to believe you couldn’t even use the WordPress app!!!! Then again, I should have known. You can’t keep an app on your phone without ever opening it, can you?
Well, I wouldn’t mind as much if you had limited yourself to the posts and didn’t read the comments I get or the comments I make on other people’s blogs, that too before me. The first thing I do these days after I get up from bed is open the WordPress app and check the notifications but they would already have been opened by none other than your Highness. Can’t you indulge in your morning routine (whatever it may be), read the newspaper or just admire your garden? But you choose to have no regards for my privacy. Yes, I agree I used your mail id to make the account but that does not entitle you the freedom to read my personal mails. And don’t start ranting about my being a kid until I’m eighteen because I already know that.
Now, this could have been a bit more tolerable had you acted like a mother should in such circumstances. Yes, your daughter doesn’t start blogging everyday – I understand your enthusiasm, woman – but if you’re just as eager as your actions depicts, can you care to express it through words? Because, however much I persist, you never have anything to comment about any of my posts except for a ‘nice’, a ‘good’, a ‘not so nice’ and a ‘bad’. All right, you say that you’re not a critic and hence it doesn’t fall upon you to point out the flaws (and being a mother, you shouldn’t point out my flaws because that would be discouraging and disheartening) but you’re not driven by the motive of encouraging your child either. You could, now and then, appreciate me, tell me how excellently I write and similar stuff even if you have to lie because who doesn’t like praises? I’m not going to have my head up in the clouds just because you praised me more than once. All I can ever get out of you is a nice or a good and I don’t know what to make of it: whether to believe that you really meant it or take it as a half-hearted comment on your side.
So you see, that’s what I expect of you from now on. For a start, you could tell me how right I was in this post and appreciate me for it, thereby proving me wrong, if you know what I mean.
*And my dear readers, thank you for bearing with my rants. There would be many among you who would be dying to get me to appreciate my mum (its not that I don’t) but as I said earlier, this post isn’t meant to shower applause and appreciation on her*