Scrolling through iCloud photos last month, looking for a recent family picture to place on the Christmas card, my eyes fell on older photos..much older photos. Sweet angelic faces stared back at me from yesteryear. Where has the time gone? I want it back. I want a do over. What I know now, I wish I knew then. The time seemed to tick slowly in those photos but now it is a fleeting memory. Could it have possibly been someone else’s cherubs staring back at me? No..no..they are all mine. A fleeting memory… a glimpse of heaven. If I could go back to my younger self and whisper some guidance, what would I say? Would my younger self listen?
I wished then to be a stylish mom who had it all together and I longed for my kids to fit in and be accepted. I never did, but I was determined to give approval and “normalcy” to them. If I put in enough effort, they would be welcomed, right? I was resolved that my kids would get the experience that I didn’t.
Unconcerned with truth, beauty, or goodness, I just strived for the American Dream. Walking my kids to their local public school classroom, and picking them up when it was over, I yearned to see them come out smiling and skipping, happily with friends. Wasn’t this the way all kids were supposed to grow up? I wanted leisure time, to work out at the gym, and have a nice figure. I wanted downtime and friends. I wanted… I wanted.. I wanted….
There is no reverse button. There is no way back. There is only reflection. There is only regret. I regret not being their teacher always. I regret passing the baton off to the “teacher” and insisting my kids play their part. None of this was natural, but it was the “way.” The “way.” The “way” it has always been done. My conscious screamed at me to take them home, as they looked back at me with sad, confused, and apprehensive eyes. Little did I know how fake this charade of a dream really was. It was only an illusion I was after. A mirage. Why did I mimic, follow suit, go with the flow, and pretend that leaving my kids with others all day was natural? There was nothing natural about it. They were born to me and they were my responsibility to raise and teach. I am their mother, I should have been their teacher then, too.