З життя
«Вона ж старалася»: як мама зіпсувала стосунки з онучкою, нав’язуючи їй одяг
«Вона ж старалася»: як моя мама зіпсувала стосунки з онукою, нав’язуючи їй одяг
Моя мама вже багато років намагається одягати мою доньку — і робить це, на жаль, абсолютно не розуміючи, що лише псує з нею відносини. Моя донька — підліток, у неї давно сформований смак, уподобання, свій стиль. Але бабуся наполегливо продовжує купувати їй одяг, не запитавши, не порадившись, не вникнувши. Просто приходить і вручає пакети з речами. І щоразу — одні й ті ж сльози, докори, образи. Бо донька не хоче це носити. А мама — ображається.
— Я старалася, вибирала, а вона навіть приміряти не хоче! — каже вона з докором, ніби дитина зобов’язана бути вдячною просто за сам факт подарунка.
А я ж чудово пам’ятаю, як це було в моєму дитинстві. Мама завжди купувала речі за принципом: «щоб на десять років вистачило», «щоб не марке», «щоб з міцної тканини». Ніхто не думав про красу, моду чи комфорт. Мене одягали так, як було зручно їм. А мені доводилося погоджуватися — бо грошей не було. Лише коли я почала сама заробляти, вперше дозволила собі вибирати одяг за смаком, а не за витривалістю шва.
Коли я стала на ноги, вирішила порадувати маму — купити їй щось гарне, нове. Але вона одразу відмахнулася.
— Що ти мені купила? Я в цьому, як лялька. Мені вже не двадцять. І взагалі — речі твої неякісні, прання боюся. Після першого прання — і на ганчірки.
Вона відмовлялася носити те, що я їй пропонувала, і продовжувала купувати собі те, що «можна носити десять років». Ну що ж, змирилася. Нехай ходить, як хоче.
Але коли в мене народилася донька — мама ніби включила старий сценарій. Дістала з комори мішки з дитячими речами мого дитинства. Якісь кофточки, фартухи, сукні з латками. Частину я відклала — у гарному стані, шкода викидати. Решту — у смітник. Дізнавшись про це, мама влаштувала скандал:
— Ці речі я берегла! Як ти могла?!
З того часу вона почала купувати «нове». На її думку — нове. На вигляд — ніби з секонд-хенду. Де вона це знаходить — не розумію. Але тоді донька була ще маленькою, і не дуже важливо було, у чому вона повзає по хаті. А от коли підросла — почалося.
У дівчинки сформувався свій стиль. Вона сама обирає собі одяг, ми разом ходимо по магазинам, і я намагаюся купувати те, що їй справді подобається. Бо знаю: те, що не до смаку — вона не вдягне.
Але бабуся продовжує робити по-своєму. І з десяти років між ними йдуть постійні конфлікти.
— Чому ти не носиш кофточку, яку я тобі подарувала?!
— Бо вона мені не подобається.
— Ти зіпсована й невдячна! — кричить мама, дивлячись на мене. — Це ти її так виховала!
А я просто втомилася. Втомилася пояснювати, що любов — це не про те, щоб нав’язати. Я багато разів просила:
— Будь ласка, не купуй їй одяг. Подаруй краще гроші, подарункову картку, книжку, прикрасу. Що завгодно, але не речі.
Але мама не чує. Вона вважає, що все робить правильно. Що ми просто не цінуємо. Що онука — груба, невдячна. Що я — погана мати, бо «дозволяю їй усе».
А насправді — я просто дозволяю своїй доньці бути собою. І сподіваюся, що колись мама це зрозуміє. Поки не пізно. Поки між ними остаточно не виросла стіна…
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