Wretched boy!

He’s trying to make me mad on purpose. Does he not realise just how much he means to me?

How dare he, to play perfect child in front of me, then do his dirty deeds when I’m not watching?

I have worked so hard to keep him safe, out of harms way, and this is how he repays me? Does he not realise he’s all I have left? I only just manage to stay sane in a place like this, only because I got to see my sweet sunshine grow up.

I’ve given up my whole life’s work for that boy. His father had wanted me to leave all my hard work behind and move to Perth for his promotion. His father never really thought about me, to him, Dunlop was his life. Nothing else really mattered. Nonetheless, I let him have his way. I agreed for our entire family to move to Perth, to leave all our relatives and friends behind, to leave all that was familiar to us for years. I let him have his way, and in return, I only wanted some attention from my little boy.

I had been left as an outsider in the community, left out of social nights, criticised by my sons’ teachers at my my method of mothering. I endured all of this only for my son. For the sake of his happiness, I allowed Robert to go out and play with his friends like every other boy in the neighbourhood. I had allowed him to go and watch movies at his will, to play with however he wanted, just so he could be happy. Seeing the smile on his face each time he came home, hear his joyful laughter each time he tells a story of he has been doing with his friends, it tells me that it was worth it. The pain I endure from being mocked by my own husband, proudly telling his drink party guests “You know Dunlop will always come first”. I endured all of it only for my son.

As life went on, year by year, my husband was being furthermore drawn in towards Dunlop. His promotion distanced him from the family even further. He began spending more time with his colleagues and at work than he did with his family. Long gone are the days of the casual swim at the beach, long gone are the days we enjoyed a traditional family dinner where the conversations always started with “How was your day today?”. Every waking moment, the word “Dunlop” was incorporated into every sentence that came out of my husband’s mouth. I learnt to hate that word. It was that word that was pulling my family apart. But I smiled anyway. Smiled each time my husband made a comment on how his “rubber products” were coming along. I endured all of this only for my son.