And Then There was Me
Long, long ago, before the (welcome) realization of becoming a mother intervened, I had much more independent, and in a different way, thrilling plans and dreams to achieve. Like an aspiring female “Indy” (Fedora included), I would travel the globe, anxiously bounding from country to country, continent to continent, welcoming excitement and adventure wherever my compass (or GPS) would point.
I would make amazing discoveries of something (anything) yet-undiscovered on this (or any other) planet. Books that I authored recounting the exhilarating and sought-after life I was leading would bullet to the top of the New York Times Best Seller List, probably before their release dates were even announced! And I would be honored, as my breathtaking photos, captured from all around the world, graced numerous covers of the award winning National Geographic Magazine.
Of course (and this almost goes without saying), I would become independently wealthy along the way.
Well, naturally, as seems to happen in life more often than not, my expectations did not quite carry out as planned. I nurtured my two kids, attended countless little league games, school plays, school meetings, and graduations. Although, admittedly I was not the perfect mother, I raised my children with overflowing pride and zero regret; not out of duty, but out of love.
To support my family, I held generally mundane and not-so-lucrative jobs over the years and never once (okay, maybe once) wished I had taken a much (MUCH) more different career path long, long ago.
The bills arrived like clockwork each and every month (although, they were not paid quite as frequently), the inevitable divorce transpired when the kids were still toddlers, and the common struggle of raising my family over the years took precedence over those distant, yet never forgotten plans and dreams.
That is until I hit forty-something. That’s when the itch started. That’s when the kids were grown and on their own and I said to myself: “It’s time for ME to grow, too!”
I began realizing that this life of mine, the one that I will (probably) only live once, should not just be about the ‘Mom’ in me. My life should be about everything that I represent: ‘Mom’ inclusive, not ‘Mom’ exclusive. More importantly, this life of mine should embrace all that I dream of being and all that I will become.
