Order. Order. Order. Pounding on the kitchen table, hearing out both the plaintiff and the defendant (a.k.a your children), meting out fair justice.....sound familiar, moms? Yes, i'm talking about Mothers' self-appointed role as the Supreme judge in a domestic jurisdiction.
It's an everyday affair for most of mothers. And, their clientele ranges from 2 to 20 year olds. Complaints ranging from hitting, pinching, clothes-swapping, name-calling, teasing, vase-breaking etc followed by complete claim of innocence from both the parties who loudly start protesting, "I swear I didn't do it, Mom".
Now, you get ready to dorn your imaginary black robe and prepare yourself (for the zillionth time in this week alone) to take on the Lady Justice role. Crucial moments like these could make you either a hero or a villian in your childrens' eyes. The implications could haunt you throughout your life. There's enough dramatic moments that could outbeat a judge finalysing his thoughts about a prisoner on the death row. But, do you cringe and cower? Nah.
You weigh the case details carefully and give a thoughtful analysis, tracing your child's psche almost back to date they were born. Even Kofi Annan would start considering other career options if placed in this juxtaposition, but nothing could intimidate your judicial prowess. Within seconds, you have stopped guessing who's the aggressor and who's the victim. Ta da, a verdict is given. Sentences are handed out.
Chances are, the guilty party who has already read your face by now, starts practicing their sulky expressions, lets out a loud, "It's not fair!" proclamation, but then meekly proceed to get their due punishment. And, the winner dorns that big smirk on the face showing a deep satisfaction that their mum is the best in the world. Until next time when they're at the receiving end. Then, of course, you'll turn into a partial parent at best, or the devil's incarnate at worst.
How do mothers play out this intense court room drama in kitchens almost every single day? And, with such ease? I don't know. But, I dare say it's impressive. So, would you all please rise for the Honorable Judge Mommy in your families. Right now. That's an order.
It's an everyday affair for most of mothers. And, their clientele ranges from 2 to 20 year olds. Complaints ranging from hitting, pinching, clothes-swapping, name-calling, teasing, vase-breaking etc followed by complete claim of innocence from both the parties who loudly start protesting, "I swear I didn't do it, Mom".
Now, you get ready to dorn your imaginary black robe and prepare yourself (for the zillionth time in this week alone) to take on the Lady Justice role. Crucial moments like these could make you either a hero or a villian in your childrens' eyes. The implications could haunt you throughout your life. There's enough dramatic moments that could outbeat a judge finalysing his thoughts about a prisoner on the death row. But, do you cringe and cower? Nah.
You weigh the case details carefully and give a thoughtful analysis, tracing your child's psche almost back to date they were born. Even Kofi Annan would start considering other career options if placed in this juxtaposition, but nothing could intimidate your judicial prowess. Within seconds, you have stopped guessing who's the aggressor and who's the victim. Ta da, a verdict is given. Sentences are handed out.
Chances are, the guilty party who has already read your face by now, starts practicing their sulky expressions, lets out a loud, "It's not fair!" proclamation, but then meekly proceed to get their due punishment. And, the winner dorns that big smirk on the face showing a deep satisfaction that their mum is the best in the world. Until next time when they're at the receiving end. Then, of course, you'll turn into a partial parent at best, or the devil's incarnate at worst.
How do mothers play out this intense court room drama in kitchens almost every single day? And, with such ease? I don't know. But, I dare say it's impressive. So, would you all please rise for the Honorable Judge Mommy in your families. Right now. That's an order.