Picture, if you will, the perfect mom. She isn’t too young or too old, and her two beautiful children are the requisite 2.2 years apart in age. She’s not too frumpy but also, not overly made up. She’s dressed in comfortable yet stylish clothes, walking her carefully groomed kids to school (on time!) with her own hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. A healthy lunch is tucked into each child’s monogrammed backpack, and later, she’ll drive them to soccer or piano lessons in a gleaming white SUV.
The summers of childhood are some of the best you’ll ever have. Remember how awesome they were? You looked forward to them all school year, counted down the days, and when the bell finally rang on that last day of school, it happened: freedom.
When I was single, I never hesitated to travel alone. I’d visit family out of province, go across the country for work, and even took university courses in Berlin one summer. I loved seeing the world, and I loved the freedom of traveling by myself with no one else to worry about. If I wanted to sleep in and waste the morning, I did. If I wanted to wake up at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise over a castle, I did. I ate where and when I wanted to, went into every museum and shop that caught my eye, and never worried about inconveniencing someone else with my whims. It was glorious.
The voice comes from the back seat of my car.
There are things you take for granted, as a mother. Sure, much of motherhood is being taken advantage of – you’re basically a food source, a chauffeur, a referee and a human Kleenex – but there are also hidden advantages. This is something I’ve been thinking about lately as I watch my husband with our two kids, a son and daughter.
Dear Daughter,
You know that mom who’s always running across the blacktop as the school bell rings, dragging a reluctant kindergartener with each hand, desperately trying to make eye contact with the teacher so she’ll hold the door open for juuuuust a minute longer? WHAT A DAMN MESS THAT MOM IS. Also, hi, that mom is me.