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| Sherry Resel Besore:
"Free to Be Me" |
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| Spring 2007 Mothers
Who Write Reading |
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I have been a mother for 25 years, the majority of my time here on Earth. Not just in name, but an active duty mother. Hands on, in the trenches, I have taken on phases and stages with no thought for my own safety. I have spent years chasing toddlers and dodging tantrums – I waited for that “phase” to end, all through the twos, and threes, and fours.
Finally, we reached school age. I had no idea the hurdles I would have to leap while trying to get my children a decent education. I thought that once the kids were in school I would have more time to myself, I didn’t realize how much work it would be. As they got older they had more and more commitments: School, activities, programs, events, appointments, and of course, friends. I had less and less time, as I took on many new jobs: social director, planner, secretary, and chauffer.
While they wanted all this from me, they no longer wanted to be seen with their mother. I felt like I was doing covert operations. “Just drop me off down the street and around the corner. Then, GO THE OTHER WAY!” I insisted on seeing them safely inside, and when the door opened I would honk and wave as I drove by. I really don’t need appreciation, as long as I get a little revenge. They believed my demands to meet their friends’ parents would equal social suicide. And the Parent/Teenage Wars ensued, as they have through the centuries. Many battles were waged at home. I have taken on puberty with my bare hands, because mental warfare was far too dangerous.
There were many times when I could only see darkness at the end of the tunnel. But we forged ahead, often with me dragging them, kicking and screaming. But they eventually made it out under their own power. Crossing the finish line of graduation, and stepping out into the world.
My youngest child graduates from high school this year, and he has a lust for life without (sans) parents. I cried when my two older children moved out. And I will cry again. But when his room is empty, and I have no one left to chauffer, I will be left to wonder . . . What is a mother without children? What role will I fill? What purpose do I serve? And how do I overcome this great emptiness? (Not the room, that will fill up in no time.)
While my role as mother has changed over the years as my kids grew up and their needs changed, I was still Mom – first and foremost. I’m still not sure what will fill that space. I know I will still be Mom in some capacity, and also Grandma. And maybe I will be Me. |
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