Friday, June 18, 2010

The other day...

I met with a close friend of mine, with whom I have always shared a special rapport. She has always attracted me for a plethora of reasons. Here are a few. She is a wonderful, attentive mother to four children. She is an excellent homemaker. She always wears a smile and exudes a sense of balance and peace. She always has a project going...she is crafty! She makes the best halloween costumes for the entire family and every year each of her kids has a fantastic, themed party with a cake baked and designed by her.

She is the mother I wanted to be and maybe came close to being.

Except...

I had to work. I was a single mother. I was in a constant daily fight for survival.

So, when my son was young, my mothering consisted of making him oatmeal in the morning, strapping him to his highchair, jumping in the shower, and praying to my higher power that Elmo would distract him enough so that by the time I got out, he would not have wiggled himself out and toppled the whole thing.

It consisted of dressing him and myself with less than meticulous care and racing to drop him off at daycare ($600 bucks a month!) and then jumping on the freeway into traffic praying i got to work on time.

It consisted of slaving all day to make some corporate fat cats rich while i visualized how my son was spending his day; were they feeding him? were they really watching him along with 50 other toddlers? was he learning? did they soothe him if he cried?

When the clock struck 6 i would race to the parking lot, once again jump into traffic and pray I reached the daycare before they closed; 5 minutes late implied a stiff penalty -- one i couldn't really afford to pay.

I would arrive to find him strapped into another high chair with a toy in front of him, in line with 50 other toddlers strapped into their high chairs. I repressed the instant thought that maybe he had been like that all day.

I would pick him up, buckle him into his car seat, stop off at the grocery store, get home, buckle him once again into his highchair or grow increasingly anxious as he stood on the other side of the gate at the kitchen door and cried as if his heart would break and try to cook a nutritious meal.

Needless to say, housework was not even in the question.

We two would eat our dinner, then an hour together as I bathed him. It was a special moment in the day; our only tranquil, 'quality' time. Then pajamas, bed and a book that would inevitably put me to sleep before it did him.

Does this sound sane to you all?

Does it sound like the way it is supposed to be?

Sherri and I met the other night and had another one of our heart-to-hearts. Women pour out their souls like nobodies' business. That's one of our special traits.

We nurture each other. We help each other. We learn from each other. That's why I'm starting this blog.

What i know now, I wish I knew then. What I know now and what Sherri knows because she was brought up that way, I think could change many women's lives.

Let's talk about it.

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