Permission: Yes or No?

Stamp of approval. Photo by Lucy Loves Business.
Stamp of approval. Photo by Lucy Loves Business.

In those days, when I wanted something, or to go somewhere, or see someone, I always had to ask my parents for permission. If I wanted to go out with some friends, I’d have to ask my mum. If I needed a new pair of jeans, I’d have to ask mum. If I was seeing someone and a family friend saw me with that person, I’d have to explain who the person was to me when I got home.

But that was a long time ago.

When I got married and moved out, I occasionally found myself slipping back into my comfort zone. I’d catch myself thinking that I need to check with my mum before making a decision about something. And then I’ll realise that, “Hey, wait a gosh-darn pickin’ minute, I’m old enough to decide, why do I keep going back to her?” I still love and respect her, but I can’t be doing this all the time! However, she has become my go-to person for second opinions. So it’s all good.

I’m sure you’ve all been there, done that, right?

Is this an Asian thing? For the offspring, who are grown up and have their own lives, to come back home for advice when they should be discussing with their spouses?

I’d like to believe that it could be related to our Asian culture, but it could also be the child’s upbringing. Some parents feel they need to have a say in their children’s lives, whether it’s a big deal or a small matter. Others prefer to let go and let their children live and manage themselves. And there are those who don’t care at all. I feel sorry for children who come from that family. Because they will never know if they’ve done something wrong. Then again, many of them have come out in the world, carving a niche for themselves and not turning out like their parents.

Which brings me back to my current situation: My husband and I will be fostering a cat this weekend as a trial run to decide whether we’re fit to look after a cat on our own. We’ve talked about keeping a pet but it was always restricted in size (think small rodents like hamsters). Here I was thinking, how on earth am I going to tell my mum about this… Hang on, do I really need to tell her? She could jolly well find out about it when she comes over for a visit. Though, that would be quite shocking as, you see, my mother doesn’t really like cats.

No, wait, that’s an understatement. My mother hates cats. And that is when my dilemma begins.


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