Mommy Regression
Mommy Regression....I have come to see that nature has made a fundamental mistake regarding Mummyhood. That mistake is we become mamas young instead of when we are older.
As young mothers we yearn to "be something". We feel less important when all we can do is attest to our universal truth that indeed "we stay home". We announce that timidly as if we just placed last in a walk-a-thon for the Elderly. It is not as meaningful, we think, as those other women who have found a place in the world and a label other then that of home and mama hood We shrink a little at our Prince Charming's work parties where the the co-worker women look as if they settle for nothing less then Nordstroms where we would only dream of shopping there when we are on our second marriage. (LOL) (You know the old adage, marry for love the first time and money the second.) We think we are less then because we don't have a subtitle to go with Mom.
We wear clothes that go in the washer and only have entered the dry cleaners to use the bathroom. We don't speak any other languages with the exception of the alien dialect of a two year old. We are not fluent of text talk but can decipher the mumblings of our teens as they walk away from us in adolescent exasperation. We may not know how to order Thai food but we know who hates tomatoes on their sandwiches and who loves cranberries on their salads. Other mommies who have found an insignia in the world have $40.oo nail appointments after work whereas we have $1.50 nail appointments with our sixth grader who needs ice cream money. Our gym is running laundry up and down the stairs. Our art isn't from a dealer but a whisp of a memory framed from our child's Kindergarten days. We often hear our children adoring others for their success in life and hear little of our sacrifices in life. We feel a little faked out for our efforts. We want a label! A title that others at parties want to hear about! We want to be more interesting then tales of our offspring!
That is why I question the Mummyhood age. I get it, when we are older we are too tired to be moms. BUT I submit to you that when we are older we can see whether we had a label or not, whether our nails were done by a professional or professional in training, whether we wore Couture or Target, we mattered. And the hallmark of who we were NOT what we were matters to those we love. That we might be remembered for our exquisite accomplishments as a mother will be the only thing that matters as we rock in our chairs out on the porch and look at the long life we have left behind. The label Mum , no matter what it is dressed like, is what we can measure the sum of our life.
We wear clothes that go in the washer and only have entered the dry cleaners to use the bathroom. We don't speak any other languages with the exception of the alien dialect of a two year old. We are not fluent of text talk but can decipher the mumblings of our teens as they walk away from us in adolescent exasperation. We may not know how to order Thai food but we know who hates tomatoes on their sandwiches and who loves cranberries on their salads. Other mommies who have found an insignia in the world have $40.oo nail appointments after work whereas we have $1.50 nail appointments with our sixth grader who needs ice cream money. Our gym is running laundry up and down the stairs. Our art isn't from a dealer but a whisp of a memory framed from our child's Kindergarten days. We often hear our children adoring others for their success in life and hear little of our sacrifices in life. We feel a little faked out for our efforts. We want a label! A title that others at parties want to hear about! We want to be more interesting then tales of our offspring!
That is why I question the Mummyhood age. I get it, when we are older we are too tired to be moms. BUT I submit to you that when we are older we can see whether we had a label or not, whether our nails were done by a professional or professional in training, whether we wore Couture or Target, we mattered. And the hallmark of who we were NOT what we were matters to those we love. That we might be remembered for our exquisite accomplishments as a mother will be the only thing that matters as we rock in our chairs out on the porch and look at the long life we have left behind. The label Mum , no matter what it is dressed like, is what we can measure the sum of our life.
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