Dear, I forgot!

Dear baby, when I sit by the bed and watch you sleep peacefully, I have a lot of words in my heart to say to you. Just a few minutes ago, when I was reading in the study, suddenly a strong sense of regret occupied my heart. I came to your side quietly in self-accusation. Dear baby, I think I am too harsh on you. When you got up in the morning, I blamed you for your slow movement. When you wash your face, I blame you for washing your face too fast. When you were eating, I blamed you and thought you didn’t like eating anything. When you were ready to go to school with your shoes on, I blamed you again and thought your shoes were not clean enough. When you put your schoolbag on the ground to clean shoes, I blamed you loudly, and thought you threw things casually on the ground. Your face is full of grievances and tears. But I said crazily: every morning, I was in a good mood, which was disturbed by you. You gritted your teeth and said very hard: Goodbye, mom! I frowned again and said impatiently, let’s go, let’s go! In the afternoon, all this started again. When I got home, I began to clean up the house, wash clothes and cook. You knocked at the door and came back, excitedly wanting to give me a hug. I was very annoyed and didn’t look at you. I turned around and left, and you stood there in a daze. I blamed you for not hanging your clothes to the designated place. You didn’t put your shoes neatly, and I blamed you again. You opened the piano, hoping that the piano would please me. I blamed you loudly because you played the wrong sound. Shouting that you are reluctant to eat or wear to support you, but you are not willing to study hard. I also said that I would smash the piano and never let you learn! You learned to leave timidly and didn’t say goodbye to me. You just said softly: I’m leaving. I suddenly had a feeling of disappointment. I recalled what I had said just now. That was not what a mother should say. Mother Cizi was Filial. How could I have the image of a loving mother! Do you still remember? When you go home at night, you walk to me timidly with sadness in your eyes. When I looked up at you, I felt that you were bothering me, and I felt very impatient. I asked you angrily: What do you want to do? You said nothing and ran back to your room. I suddenly felt that the air in the whole house seemed to be stagnant. I want to know what are you doing? After a while, a paper plane flew out of your room and fell steadily under my feet. I picked up the plane and unfolded it. I found a few lines of words: Mom, I’m sorry. I can’t do anything well and always make you angry. I’m really trying my best, for the sake of me as a child, please give me time and wait for me to grow up, OK? I will try my best to be what you want! Tears slipped down instantly. What happened to me? Unexpectedly, I forgot that what I saw was only a child, a child who spared no effort to please me. How depressed her heart should be when she worked so hard. What kind of fear should she be in her heart without seeing her mother’s smile. A sharp pain gripped me. I can’t think or breathe. I feel scared. I suddenly found that a habit had dominated me, blaming you all day long, hating you and treating you nitpicking, but you still needed to ask for my forgiveness. Postscript: no wonder my daughter said in a composition that she wanted to adopt a child or a dog, so that when her mother was angry, she could find a place to vent. I always thought that I loved her, and everything I did was for her. Now I think about it, I’m afraid that inappropriate love is also a kind of torture and injury! Later, I had a long talk with my daughter. She said, “Mom, think about it. If you can’t get along well with your daughter, who else can you get along well? My daughter’s words taught me and shocked me! Recently, I read some books about Zen and found that childlike innocence is the closest to Taoism. We adults have already made our hearts dust and lost ourselves in our daily life. I found that only in the process of blaming my daughter can I get a kind of psychological satisfaction. Only in this way can people realize my contribution and existence. I built my sense of self-satisfaction on my daughter’s pain, I am What a selfish mother!

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