Slumdog Millionaire

I saw Slumdog Millionaire recently and loved it.

Don't be put off by the advertising, as I was initially. It isn't as schmaltzy as it looks.

Instead, it is a visual feast that reveals the colour and chaos, splendour and squalor of India. It lays bare the gritty life of slum children in Mombai, complete with a Fagin-esque exploitation of orphans, without descending into pathos or sentimentality (well, not too much).

Slumdog is about love and love of money, tenacity and karma (fate). Despite a few unnecessarily formulaic bits (of course her rich boyfriend beats her up, of course true love prevails despite the odds, of course the hero triumphs) it is a beautiful, affecting film.

Go and see it on the big screen while you can.

My Girl's Got Heart

Photo Credit: cameosteph

Yesterday, Ella and I were settled on the sofa sharing a fleece blanket. 

She had just finished playing with her virtual Pony on her Dad's Nintendo DS (which she has negotiated part shares in). I was slipping into the salty sea air of Coastliners (you haven't read Joanne Harris? Do). 

A soft silence snuggled around us.

After a few minutes, Ella mused "I wonder what I was born for, Mummy".

I put my book down and met her intense gaze. "I don't know, love. What do you think you were born for?"

I watched her purse her lips and frown a little as she searched for a reply. "Well, Mummy I think that it is up to you".

Amazed at this profundity I exclaimed, "Oh, sweetie that's so clever of you! Yes, I think it is completely up to you to choose what you are born for. 

"You can decide who you want to be, what you want to do, what you want your life to be about..." I could feel myself go into Babble Mode, so excited was I at the prospect of having co-created a mini philosopher. Such wise words from a five year old!

"No, Mummy. I mean I think it's up to you to decide what I was born for".

"I don't think so, sweetie. I think it's up to you. I really wouldn't want that responsibility. But thanks anyway."

This morning, I watched Ella have breakfast and felt one of those random feelings of parental joy that grip you sweetly when you least expect them.

She's such a sweet, kind girl. I feel so lucky to be her mother sometimes. Lots of times. Not during whining or moaning times though.

I felt compelled to tell Ella why I love her - I mean why apart from the biological imperative to do so. It's too easy to keep wrapping it all up in a nondescript "I love you". So I told her.

"Did you know, Els, that I think you are clever and kind. You're pretty, you're cute and I feel really lucky to be your mummy." She looked up briefly, smiled and went back to eating her raisin bagel.

"You're so loving and you're so easy to love" I added.

Ella dropped her bagel and locked eyes with me. Hers were as wide as her smile. "Mummy!" she exclaimed in a 'Eureka!' tone, "that's what I was born for".

Do you know, I think that's what I was born for too. Giving love and getting it has always been my main drive. For me, being loving and being loved are the greatest pleasures in life.

I always wondered what my life purpose is.

Thanks, Ella.

Autumn Leaf

Photo:Last Leaf Falling
 

Goodness, I have been stirring the pity pot recently. For a good few days after Els returned into the loving arms of her mother (that’s me btw), I’ve been cussing my fate.

I do occasionally have a good old wallow in the fact that poor lil ole me has to give up my only daughter for half the week (sometimes more) like a modern day Demeter.

Els isn’t at all like Persephone of course. She’s hardly been abducted to the underworld. When she’s not with me, she’s in the loving arms of her father. So there’s no real reason to grieve is there?

I know this. I really, really do. But lately I couldn’t help but bemoan my situation. Poor old Part-time Mummy. Denied the joys of full-time motherhood.

Never did I think that the collapse of my relationship with El’s dad would jeopardise my time with my daughter. I assumed that I’d relinquish every, or every other, weekend. I also assumed I’d get financial help for my unstinting work as a mother. Neither assumption turned out to be correct. Sometimes that rankles.

I went for a walk when Els was at school and watched a leaf fall slowly from a tree. As I traced its hypnotic path I couldn’t help by identify with it somehow. I too felt buffeted by some unseen force, large and random, because how could it be possible that I myself had chosen the direction I have moved in?

How could someone so passionately in love with her child volunteer to give that child up? Surely I have been pushed into this place by Fate. Poor, poor me.

And then I had a Defining Moment. I realised my unseen force is Love, not Fate.

It was my love for Ella that moved me to choose sharing her care with her dad. He’s a good dad. She loves him and he loves her. How could I deprive my gorgeous girl of an equal parent and relegate him to a weekend dad role? How would she truly benefit from that, when she could have so much more?

Empowered by my past decision once again, all because of a falling leaf, I look at my happy, confident, well-loved daughter and feel proud that I let myself be moved by love all those years ago…and that I love her enough to keep letting her go.