Rus Articles Journal

Daughters are mothers of

the Native daughter as mother can surprise us and even to nonplus. What to do - life another and daughters became others. One is invariable - all of them are different.

the Princess

her child has to have all the best, the most modern! A bed, a carriage, pampers, sliders, runners, arenas, small bottles with heating, a radio telephone - to hear crying from other room. Only such Italian little table and only such French stool. And the roundabout still singing with hand bells, the laughing bear cub, a night lamp from a lullaby a song... Why mother is a princess decided that her child is the crown prince, it is unknown. The budget of a young family goes to pieces, but these are the husband`s problems. As wants, so let and solves. Try to hint such mother that not the built-in tape recorder (in a special lamp, with special night light has to “sing“ a lullaby!) and she. The princess only to a coat hanger will move. Last century!

A bit later she will demand

for the three-year-old kid the English nurse and the personal swimming instructor. At the same time the princess is not idle - she is active and vigorous: constantly changes clothes of the child for hundred magnificent clothes, keeps all miracles of equipment and design in an order, without forgetting also about the husband - it at it as the advertizing picture too. What is surprising, such husbands execute all whims of the princesses and - feel at the same time normally: is more visible to the woman that there the child has to have, the palace - so the palace. What to tell about such mother? It is vain, exacting, mad about advertizing? And maybe, wants that her kid had a superchildhood? Difficult question.

the Honours pupil

She is ideal mother, and, the main thing, itself will read itself that. Of course, she wants to relax, roll about at least once in a week with the book, but not to drag children on a musicale, convincing them on the road that Mozart is a great composer. But she has no right to act this way: in the diary of ideal mother there should not be no “three“. Even “fours“ are inadmissible - everything that is planned in respect of education and education, has to be executed. Let the father lie on a sofa and does not wish to spend Sunday morning for family ski walk, ideal mother does not take offense. She has no time to be engaged in a showdown. The high aim - to give to children at most from the diapers - absorbs mother - the honors pupil entirely.

Together with children she learns to tell, go, tie laces and it is correct to hold a spoon. Fades with horror and delight, reading to them about Karabas - Barabas and the poor thing Malvina with blue hair. It is an iskolola fingers, teaching the daughter to embroidery, and mastering “man`s“ occupations with the son, delivered itself the hammer bruise on a forehead.

the Honours pupil from anybody demands nothing

and at very modest means manages to drive children on all children`s performances. In the summer it goes with them to travel - the legs on a forest track with a backpack behind shoulders. People around from this bore feels sick. We only pretend that we love perfection. Incarnate ideals irritate us, reminding of own weaknesses and miscalculations. Therefore the honors pupil has many secret ill-wishers, even among the family. They twist a finger at a temple: never Mozart`s children and a backpack will fall in love behind the back. To them money for slot machines. But, strangely enough, children of the honors pupil distinguish Mozart from Beethoven and dream not of overseas beaches, and of a campaign on a kayak. What will be when they grow up and will see that their mother to ridiculous is old-fashioned? Let`s not think. Only it would be advisable to mother - the honors pupil though occasionally to take the adult book in hand or to descend with the husband on an adult performance.

Mad

At first she gives birth in a bathtub without any medicine. And does it on a blue eye, with a radiant smile. Then it grabs the baby a leg and twists as if he the rag doll, throws under a ceiling, is quick to grasp and again twists, calling this mockery of baby - yoga. When, to incredible simplification of grandmothers, the kid everything is survives, it heats it, now in an ice-hole, golenky again, and then forces to go on snow. All wait when at the kid temperature jumps up to come tearing along with honey and raspberry, with antibiotics and mustard plasters, with all the passionate love: to rescue the child and at last to prove to it... But the kid is not ill, grows healthy and bright, and his mad mother laughs at all okha and sighs. It does not go to the dacha, it does not need our dachas with kitchen gardens and jars of jam (sugar does not eat and does not give to the child, the poor hare does not know even taste of candy!) . Loads the child in the dusty car which became permeated with the smell of gasoline and leaves up hill and down dale. Is afraid of nothing: does not recognize either microbes, or viruses, drugs. What amazes - full solidarity of both parents, both mad mother, and mad father, in all absolutely questions. Live in peace and friendship and without long reflections give birth to the second and third - again in a bathtub...

Anxious

At this mother everything occurs exactly the opposite. At the slightest shout and a sneeze she in panic also calls “Ambulance“. Goes on doctors and with maniacal punctuality implements all recommendations. The nursery became permeated with the smell of mixtures. Walks are excluded - the urban ecology does not allow. The anxious mother will not entrust the child to anybody - either mother, or the mother-in-law, or the girlfriend. It is unclear, from where this eternal fear and how to explain to her that the child - the living little man, but not a cup from servsky porcelain. The husband does not get with it into arguments - himself more expensive. And then, he - that knows that this fear - from mad love. The anxious mother forgot about herself at all, in her there is no healthy egoism at all, all her time is devoted to fight for the child`s life. You will prove nothing to it and anything do not convince of - it will make object of adoration and alarm when it grows up and will demand freedom.

the Victim

She gave rise to

- and almost right there felt unfortunate. Nobody helps it, nobody understands it. The husband calls that is late, - so she also thought. No, she will not make scandal, but will remember these two hours stolen from a family as the next treachery. From grandmothers the victim does not see anything good too. Grandmothers work, are on Sundays with a new rattle, and generally vigorously inquire by phone, how are you. And how is she? You will explain to nobody how everything is awful - day by day one with squashes at a plate, with buttons of the washing machine, with the panel in front of the TV on which show such gloomy nonsense. Walk for unfortunate mother - back-breaking toil. It is necessary to dress the child and most to take out a carriage, then most to roll it in an entrance and in the elevator. No, walks not for it. Let the father be engaged in it - if deigns to be home in time.

the Look at the victim always pokazushno unfortunate. What is she busy the whole day with? If to come on a visit without call, you will find such picture: the child overstrains in an arena, its shout muffles the shouting tape recorder, in kitchen on a plate something escaped and smells burned, and unfortunate mother in a nightgown and a dressing gown is doomed the priest - Korn in front of the TV chews.

Well you hung up a nose what grief at you happened? Regain consciousness, look around - everything excellent. You Never cross out the best years of the life, we will be nevermore as happy as in the first years of motherhood when children need us most on light when they bezzubo blossom in response to our smile and trustfully murmur after us: “babbling“, “was turned sour“, “babaka“.