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Friday, May 18, 2018

National Service

In the best of times, I don't think any mother looks forward to seeing her son go into National Service. Come on, how can I send that baby in the video, to NS?

Right now, I feel positively panicky about NS. In 3 months, 3 young men have died. I am terrified at the thought of losing The Son. It is a cold fear in my heart that nothing can warm. I complained to my husband, who did nothing but shrug. I complained to my son, who said that the statistical chances are very low.

Yes, but they are not zero. They should be zero.

The Israelis all have 5 kids. They are a nation at war and all Israeli mothers know that young people die in the service of their country. They have many kids to ensure at least some are left to console a bereaved mother. Even then, there are mothers who lose all their children to war. But... but... but... Israel is constantly at war. Their boys die so that Israel might survive. Our boys die because some young idiotic officer barely out of his teens, was either cruel or stupid.

Why did not anyone tell me that our young men too, could die in the service of our country, for no better reason than the stupidity and cruelty of another young man? I would have made 10 kids. As it is, I only have 1 son and 1 daughter. Both are precious to me.

So, I am deeply regretful that I made The Son swim 15 laps or jog 15 minutes daily when he was in P4 through to P6. I deeply regret that I was so proud of his 6-pack at the end of P5. I should also not have been so proud when his school selected him as talent for Track and Field (which we rejected in favour of shooting).

At that time, there was a spate of young men who simply dropped dead of heart failure whilst marching in the sun. I decided that I had to ensure that The Son developed a strong heart. So, I forced him to swim or jog daily. Now, I am rewarded by the news that he has to go for Commando medical. I should have kept him indoors and sent him pale and slender (with a slight cough) to his NS medical. Oh why did I make a son with a rippling torso and a muscular right arm (the right arm holds up the pistol).

I am usually quite good at keeping my worries to myself. The Husband, The Daughter and The Son all have stressful schedules and it is not fair to burden them with my fears. This time, I whined and whined and whined. When I suggested that my son deliberately fail his Commando medical, both The Husband and The Son gave me speechless stares. And I am like, "So what!"

Then, my son assured me that he had no interest in joining the Commandos and would make sure he told that to the interview panel, but he had no intention of intentionally failing anything.

As you can see, I have now taken to whining on my blog.

Every day, I send one of the following pictures to my son on Telegram. I know that if I send it all to him at a go, he will only read the last one. I upload the pictures in the hope that they will be useful to other mothers.

Psssst... a friend of mine has a son who got sent to the K9 Unit. I am praying for that assignment too! Or perhaps the cyber security unit? Or the UAV (unmanned aerial vehicle unit)?

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