My first bona fide homage is to my good friend Lorraine, whom I just adore for a myriad of reasons. She is loyal and smart and incredibly supportive not to mention creative and artistic and did I mention she is beautiful as well? She is kind and whimsical and has an even keeled temperament that I not-so-secretly covet.
She loves my kids who love her too which is always an added plus. She has been my friend for the last 12 years through thick and thin. I've known her longer than my husband. She had a front row seat to all our pre-marital drama and break ups and reconcilations and conflicts. She is always a sympathetic listener and a ready shoulder to cry on. She is one of the few pre-marital girlfriends I still have who, despite my problems with dh, was able to overlook them once we decided to get married. Therefore, she is one of my few pre-marital girlfriends who can enter our home without the slightest resentment from dh. A HUGE plus.
But none of these reasons is why I adore her so. Here is the REAL reason I value our friendship so much:
She reminds me of the outside world, the one that has nothing to do with potty training or preschools or time outs or play dates. The one that could care less about the fight I had with dh that morning or whether or not they liked me at my new job.
When I get together with Lorraine, somehow our conversation always drifts from the details of our daily routines to the greater issues. Media censorship and moral responsibility. American government and foreign policy. Racial discrimination. The economy (and by this I mean its global effect on society, not whether or not we can afford to vacation in Mexico this Christmas). For a brief period of time, I get to feel a part of that greater good that we all deep down long for and need. I get to re-join the rest of society, everyone else's joys, sorrows, and challenges.
Please don't misunderstand me. I love my children and husband deeply (strangely revealing that I place the children first? I think not...) They are, after all, ultimately my world all day every day. I do get a sense of satisfaction (albeit weary) at the end of each long day knowing that I have given my best effort to enhance and support the lives of each member of my family by whatever means necessary. Need more fiber in your meal? Here are the apples and broccoli. Need more household income? I'll work extra days and weekends; I'll even find a second job. Need friends, education, diversion? Play dates, preschool, trips to the zoo or museum -- I plan and schedule them all. I work part-time at two different jobs while still looking for more work. I take the kids shopping for birthday gifts, teach them manners, pack up the big swim bag for every lesson after making sure I've slathered them with the "right" child-friendly sunscreen. On most outings I pack snacks and lunches for them while forgetting to pack so much as a water bottle for myself. I get it. They come first now before my needs, the most basic of which oftentimes barely get met (food, rest, bathroom breaks, and time alone with dh). Ever since my children were born, I have been in serious survival mode feeling as though THEIR very survival depends on me. It's the curse of the modern day working mom/hover parent.
After 4 years, I can honestly admit that it wears on me. And it takes its toll. I dance around with the other parents at the Mommy and Me music class while our amused progeny look on. I've kowtowed to the raging tantrums of a screaming toddler more times than I can remember. I carry CD's of children's music in our car and I download child-friendly animated movies on my iPad. The guilt of working and trying to fulfill their every need is overwhelming. Many, perhaps most, days I don't even feel human any more. I am this sleep-deprived creature, this servant, mindlessly chasing after the elusive holy grail of "Perfect", mother, worker, and wife. I am charged with a task that can never be completed, a prize that can never be won because it doesn't really exist.
After a conversation with Lorraine that has nothing to do with my problems or daily activities, I get to feel, dare I say it? human again. I am still here. I may be a working mother and wife now, in all its glory and pain, but the real me is still here.
