Oh My Gosh

“…as far as I can tell, no matter what the circumstances, parenthood is thrust upon a parent. No one is ever quite ready; everyone is always caught off guard. Parenthood chooses you. And you open your eyes, look at what you’ve got, say ‘Oh my gosh,’ and recognize that of all the balls there ever were, this is the one you should not drop. It’s not a question of choice.” ---from Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos

I was one of the lucky ones. Parenthood chose me at the same time I chose to be parent, a stay-at-home parent. One minute, we were talking about having a baby, the next minute – or so it seemed – I was pregnant.

I have savord every moment (some more than others!) of my 24-hour-a-day, seven-days-a-week-for-the-rest-of-your-life journey into motherhood. I wish I could also say that I haven't dropped the ball occasionally, but, however unintentionally, I have. You don’t tell your 20-year-old son that you’ve made the heartbreaking decision to divorce his father after 27 years of marriage and have him say he can’t believe you waited so long if you’ve been the perfect parent. But I did the best I could with what I had back then. Good days or bad days, I wouldn’t trade a single one of them. Having the chance to be Nick's mom has made every day worthwhile - except maybe the year he was 15.

Yes, I sometimes had to be reminded that it was six o’clock and I hadn’t started dinner yet, and “Please, Mom, could you stop writing and make me a little macaroni and cheese?” And I admit that on at least one occasion my son opened his lunch box to find a “bread sandwich” – no ham, no cheese, no turkey – just two slices of bread neatly cut into little triangles. I believe I did include the chips and cookies and juice box, but I can’t say for sure. Oh, and I messed up one of his mammoth Lego buildings, sort of, when I moved it to mop his bedroom floor. Years later he told me he’d lost interest in his Lego blocks after that unfortunate incident. Maybe that’s why he’s an RN now instead of an architect. So maybe in retrospect, that little mishap was actually a good thing…right?

There were times when being the parent – often the only parent physically and/or emotionally available – was anything but easy. Times when I wished I could be his pal; times when I wished I didn’t have to say no; times when I wished I could look the other way and hope for the best. But that would have been dropping the ball big time. That would have been saying I didn’t care about him when he most needed to know that someone truly did.

You start on day one, laying the foundation. You provide the guidelines. You answer questions as honestly as you can. You give advice whenever the moment seems right and also when there isn’t a single, solitary right moment in sight. Feather by feather, you give them the wings they need to fly. You hold your breath and watch as they tumble out of the nest that first tentative time. You patch them up whenever necessary and let them have another go. You wait for the day when they’re ready to soar, and then you let them loose.

You say goodbye to the little boy or the little girl you once cradled in your arms, you say hello to the young man or the young woman standing before you with a smile, and finally…finally…you get to be not only the parent, but also the pal!