If I could write you this blog in food it’d start with a warm flaky croissant, fresh apricot jam beside a steamy cappuccino. I was “not in Kansas anymore” when I started this blog, but Italy. A Mother-Daughter date with my girl—a chance for us to spend time together away from our everyday lives, responsibilities and inevitable distractions that come along with it.
In her younger days it was afternoon tea dates, Harry Styles flash mobs and crafting nights. I had those same feelings regarding my son, though our dates were college hockey games, Dave Matthews Band concerts and dinners. As a young mom always lurking in the back of my mind was the heavy knowledge that one day I would no longer be the center of their universes.
You see, I dreamt my whole life to be a mother. Had it all mapped out in my mind. I’ve been told I was the best babysitter in all the land. I was a devoted kindergarten teacher. The role of mother would be a breeze for me, one it seemed I’d been born to do. But alas, motherhood was the most emotionally, mentally and physically exhausting job I’d ever experienced.
It began the moment the nurse wheeled me out of the hospital with our newborn son with a cheerful, “Off you go now!” Filled with anxiety but no experience caring for a newborn, it was not the parenting books lining my shelves that saved me but my friends and family. They were who heard me, saw me and helped me. They gave me the space to ask the silly questions, share my scary feelings and admit to all the mother guilt bubbling inside me. There were some days I felt the swirling sea of responsibility might swallow me whole. Let it be said, being responsible for raising successful human beings was so much more than I was expecting.
The other stupefying parenting bit was the end goal. To raise the children you gave life to, to ultimately be able to live life independent of you. What in the bloody hell kind of reward is this? It was in this realization “date” night was born and continues to this day. Though the dates have changed the end goal always remains the same: time together.
This most recent date was with my daughter, who researched and planned the entire thing. We traveled by plane, train and yes, automobile. We ate, drank, laughed, got lost and found ourselves again. We experienced Rome’s nighttime beauty in a golf cart. Took a Pesto Cooking Class overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Rented a car and bravely drove from hilly countryside dirt roads to the speedy highways of Rome.
Early one morning while quietly writing, it dawned on me the tables had turned. The very baby girl I bumbled through raising is the one navigating and guiding us through these days. I suppose one could say my job here is done, and a job well done, too, I might add. However, I know better. Motherhood never really ends, but morphs into just another version of itself.
Which brings me to this past weekend. My daughter invited me to spend an evening with her awesome former college roommates. I jumped at the chance. These gals are now full-fledged adults. They’ve flown the coop, have full-time careers, one a homeowner, one married and each one remarkable. Time with them was precious, too.
Like a fly on the wall, I watched them prepare dinner while reminiscing, laughing, listening and being supportive of one another. My emotions spilled over. Sure, they got their degrees despite late-night antics and missed early morning classes. Survived Spring breaks and heartbreaks. But above all, they found great humans and nurtured lifelong friendships.
Watching her with her girlfriends reminded me of all the incredibly special times I’ve shared with the wonderful friends I have collected over my 61 years of life. It seems by example, I taught her the greatest gift you can give yourself is a trustworthy, supportive and loving friend. As I took my place at their dinner table I realized that young scared mom just maybe did know a thing or two about being a parent after all.
with a mother’s love, allison
A little thing you should know: Our vacation was a game of Follow the Leader, one we played endlessly when my children were young. I know the rules well; leader in eyeshot, especially with the endless vacation distractions. The bee buzzing past me landing on a flower beside the Coliseum. The weaved ancient brick roads beneath my feet. The tantalizing smells wafting from the endless restaurants. But when I refocused and looked up there just a bit up the road was my daughter waiting patiently for me to catch up.