Even Though They've Grown Up — Our House is Still a Chorus of 'Mom! Mom!!' Today

Even though they've grown up

— Our house is still a chorus of 'Mom! Mom!!' today

In our house, we have an eldest son who is a university student and a second son who is a technical college student.

They are big now.

They've grown taller.
Their voices have deepened.
They have their own plans.
They have their own smartphones.
They have their own worlds.

And yet, inside the house, it's still a chorus of 'Mom, Mom' today.

'Mom, listen to this for a second.'

'Mom, where is that?'

'Mom, what do you think of this?'

'Mom, you know, that guy...'

It doesn't matter if it's morning or night.
Their voices are loud.
Their demands are big.
Their stories are long.

Even though they've grown up, the voices calling for me are still the same as when they were little.

'When do you feel your children have grown?'

When asked that, I was a bit stumped.

That's because there hasn't been a single moment where I clearly thought, 'They aren't little kids anymore.'

Graduation ceremonies.
The day they grew taller.
The day they accomplished something on their own.

I can't immediately think of those kinds of obvious moments.

Rather, every day is much more chaotic.

Amazing.
You've really grown so much.

The moment after I think that, the next challenge already appears.

Just when I think they've grown, they forget something.
Just when I think they understand, they stumble over the same thing again.
Just when I think they're okay on their own, they call out 'Mom' in a loud voice.

A child's growth doesn't look like a straight staircase.

Just when I think they've moved forward, they step back.
Just when I think they've stepped back, they've moved forward without me noticing.

The growth I see in my children is always a bit zigzagged.

My eldest son has been a talkative child since he was little.

He was the kind of child whose thoughts seemed to come straight out of his mouth.

Things that made him happy.
Things he didn't like.
Things he couldn't accept.
His own ideas.

Everything came out in his voice.

So, it was easy to understand what he was thinking.

That hasn't changed much even now.

My eldest son tells his younger brother and sister directly about the things they should fix.

After that, he comes to me to tattle.

'Mom, that guy...'

'Mom, you should really tell them properly.'

'Mom, listen to me.'

He has a very righteous look on his face.
He speaks quite condescendingly.
He acts a bit like a little king in the house.

But what lies beneath that is probably very delicate.

Behave yourself as the eldest son.
Because you're the big brother.
This is how it should be.
It must be this way.

He is also a child who has received many such words from somewhere.

That's why, when I see my eldest son telling someone else how things 'should be,' my heart tightens.

I wonder if that is truly your own voice.

I wonder if it is just the words that were once directed at you, coming out in a different form.

Sometimes I think so.

I am sure there were times when I demanded too much 'eldest son behavior' from my eldest.

I wanted him to be reliable.
I wanted him to do things properly.
I wanted him to be a role model for his younger siblings.

Perhaps I made him carry those expectations without even realizing it.

My eldest son talks a lot.
He can seem bossy.
He tries to say the right things.

But in truth, he might just be anxious if he doesn't appear strong.

When I think of that, it makes my heart ache a little.

My second son has been a child who observes his surroundings well since he was little.

He listens to what people say.
He reads the room.
He tries to understand what is happening in front of him in his own way.

I often saw him doing that.

For my second son, his rival was his older brother.

He didn't want to lose.
He wanted to catch up.
But his older brother was always a little bit ahead.

That is why my second son watched his brother so closely.

He watched, remembered, absorbed, and handled things skillfully.

I think his older brother was both his rival and his role model.

Even now, that second son of mine is the king of forgetting things.

He forgets important items.
He forgets necessary tasks.
He forgets things so much that I find myself wondering why he forgets them at all.

Even so, he still has his adorable side.

"Mom, today..."

"Mom, listen."

"Mom, look at this."

They report everything to me.

They've grown up.
But they're still cute.

They've become more capable.
But they still need a lot of help.

Both of those things exist in the same house.

I think I've always wanted to raise my children perfectly.

A perfect mother.
A perfect mom.
Always the right presence for my children.

Somewhere along the way, that's what I was aiming for.

But reality isn't that pretty.

There are days I've gotten too angry.
There are days I've said too much.
There are times I've pushed my own agenda because I wanted them to understand.

"Do this."

"That's wrong."

"Think properly."

There are mountains of things I've told them to do.

At those times, the children usually had faces that didn't understand at all.

Are they listening?
Are they not listening?
Is it really getting through to them?

Days went by without me knowing.

However, there are times when I'm struck by something later on.

When someone in the family gets sick.
How to keep distance from friends.
How to interact with people.
How to use money.

I think about this when I see the words and actions they choose in unexpected moments.

Oh.
You understood?

What you are doing right now is exactly what I wanted to convey.

Back then, it seemed like it hadn't reached them at all.

But perhaps, it was actually left somewhere inside them.

More than what I told them, what I showed them has become their core.

I feel that way.

I thought I was raising my children, but I was being watched all along.

How I move around the house.
How I face people.
What I do when I'm in trouble.
How I spend money.
How I protect what is important.

I thought I had been teaching them with words.

But the children were also watching what was outside of those words.

That is a little scary.

But it is also a little bit of a relief.

When I feel my children growing.

It wasn't just a beautiful moment.

"I did it."

"Amazing."

"You've grown up."

Before I can slowly store such moments in my memory, the next challenge appears.

I am called Mom, Mom.
They forget their things.
They tattle on each other.
They lecture me with logic from above.
They still need so much help.

Even so, I notice it in fleeting moments.

Ah.
These children have been watching all along.

They have been absorbing everything.

They might not become the adults I envisioned.

But they are growing up, each with their own unique character.

My eldest son remains a talkative king.
But he still carries a delicate sensitivity deep inside.

My second son remains the king of forgotten things.
But he is observing his surroundings, absorbing things, and finding his own place.

Even though they've grown up, they still call me 'Mom'.

In those voices, the parts that are still like little children and the parts that are already becoming adults are mixed together.

That is why I answer again today, feeling a bit at a loss.

“What is it?”

Surely, this chorus will continue for a while longer.

But beyond those voices, they are growing in their own way.

Quietly, so much so that I almost miss it.
Lively, so much so that it leaves me exasperated.

Today, our house is a chorus of 'Mom! Mom!!' again.

Even though they've grown up.

No.

Perhaps it is precisely because they are in the middle of growing up.

#WhenIFeelMyChildrenGrowing

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Usually, I write notes tracing Tomoya Nakamura's works through music, background scores, soundtracks, and the lingering impressions of his acting.
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