Friday, April 23, 2010

Preaching To The Mommy Choir

Today I ran into one of my Mocha Moms sisters while we were both in the middle of our mommy duties - shuttling kids to doctors.  She was taking her little one for a routine checkup, I was taking mine to her twice-weekly allergy shots.  We had a moment in the lobby of this professional building to preach to the choir.

It must be a full moon or something because both of us recognized that look of sheer exhaustion and a "discussion" with our mutual husbands about the worth of what we do at home.  We both got the "you don't do anything all day but drive kids around."  Both of us understood the time consuming chore of taking kids from one thing to the next in traffic.  Then there was the "you aren't doing anything with your degree, that little (fill in the blank) is just a hobby and not a real job."  We understood.

As our moment of sharing ended and our mutual crew of daughters hugged good-bye, we gave each other that look of, "girl, if no one else understands, I do, and if you ever decide to run away and spend some time on that remote island, give me a call."

I shuttled my girls back in the van to race the twenty-five minutes home to throw in a load of laundry, finish the cleaning up I like to have finish by Friday, freshen up, field a phone call from the 23 year old who was on the MegaBus to come visit, and then shuttle the 15 year old to his call for the second night of his play.

I could feel the exhaustion rising up in my bones the same way the fire rose up in my belly this morning when my husband went on a tirade about how I never cook dinner, never wash the clothes, and basically sit around eating bon bons all day.  Where has this man been?  Perhaps watching another episode of Leave It To Beaver where June Cleaver made dinner in a fully dress and pearls.

Then I remembered the words of someone much wiser than I.  Life is short, a gift to be cherished and a time to flourish.  Sometime we, women, are living in a bubble created by a patriarchal system, sometimes in heavy religious doctrine, that says our dreams, hopes, desires, and aspirations do not matter, that we are only on earth to take care of the children, the man, the elderly, and then sit down and die.

Sometime inside me is rising up and jumping up and down, NO!  I am not finished with my purpose yet.

I told my daughters I loved them and no matter what, I would always love them.

Change feels like it is seeping into my soul, softly illuminating the tomorrow of possibility, much like the moonlight is gently glowing through the balcony windows.

It feels uncertain, the thought of giving up this life I have know for so long.  This existence that rolled from one day to another to a month to another to a year to another to now I am almost 46 and wonder if my degree, my experience, my background still has a place in the world I once knew.

My musings about motherhood and changes are filling my mind.  The youngest child will be in first grade next year.  Will she still need me?  My son will be a junior.

I looked in the mirror and perhaps the stages of change began two weeks ago when I dusted off the cobwebs of my resume and updated my life, there was so much I've done in the seven years I've been outside corporate america.  Running an educational summer program never would have happened in my former life.

The change kept me thinking, even as I cut three inches off my dread locs.  I looked in the mirror at this woman and at these hands and thought, I've just about fulfilled the assignment for this moment, it is time to take on a new challenge.

My children will always know my heart and my love for them.  They will one day remember the gift they had in me, even as I cherish being a part of their development, their advanced reading skills and ability to express themselves, their confidence and courage and character.

The mom and I understood the place we were in life and recognized the moment of opportunity and longing.

I have my leaping shoes ready.  And my voice.  And I won't stop singing.

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