Saturday, May 24, 2008

Prologue to Running Away from Mothering

I no longer talk about the poop, unless it's the poop of the 81-year-old woman who raised me, my own mother. "Has she had a bowel movement, Dad? You know, we must make sure she gets in water?"

I'm no longer laying clothes out for a pre-schooler only to have him throw them to the floor and refuse to wear his baby blue shirt because "That's what a girl would wear!" I remember when my son did that.

And I'm definitely not waiting for my husband to come home so we can discuss how to discipline a teen for viewing adult content on a website. The not waiting for a husband part is what I no longer do. Contemplating appropriate disciplinary actions for offspring are still on my plate.

I think of myself as out of the loop on mother these days, not checking homework, rarely cooking meals, listening less and less to sibling squabbles. So, I struggle with writing topics sometimes related to mothering or honing in on topics at the pulse of mommy blogging.

I've got this idea in my head that I'm a new thing. I want to climb into the me that's middle-aged, divorced and hot, don the costumes of a woman who's emerged from the grieving process of a marriage lost as the self-confident rising goddess triumphant. (You will go through a grieving process during and after divorce even if you, as I did, wanted the divorce and know in your heart you are happier unhitched.)

And for some reason I keep thinking this new person is a not mother.

Part of my problem is a desire to recapture what I think was lost, I'm guessing. I wasn't supposed to get married and bear a child at 20. As early as 9 years old, I was saying that I would be a lawyer or a writer or something sooooo much more important than "just a mom" in my mind. I said that I wouldn't have children until I was at least 26 years old, if even then.

Eventually more of this will be posted at BlogHer.

1 comment:

Jen said...

Thank you so much for linking my blog in your beautiful column over there. Your poem brought tears to my eyes.

I was never the "mother" sort, either. Sometimes I still wonder whether I am.

Congratulations on moving into an exciting new phase of your life. I'll be coming back to visit often!