Freedom

Cue the George Michael music here..... It started snowing Friday morning and didn't stop until late Saturday. By snowing, I mean SNOWING, with wind, whiteouts, the whole mix of bludgeoning winter weather that incapacitates you and mother nature reigns. Sort of puts your control issues into perspective, I guess. The thing is, I have been attempting to check my need to control things for, oh, about two years now. From right about the time my labor started, quite unexpectedly, three weeks early and I was SO unprepared in a "oh my god the nursery isn't ready" kind of way, through yesterday when we had to cancel our plans (PLANS!) to go out for the evening because of heaping mounds of snow and no accessible childcare. I was angry, depressed at the unfairness of it all, especially when about 4:30 the sun stared shining as if to say "it's okay, come out and play!" oblivious to the foot of snow on the ground. The fact is, we could have went ahead with our plans to play, if it were just the two of us, but therein lies the above reference. Cue the George Michael.

The lack of freedom has been the most difficult part of mother(parent)hood and one that is somewhat difficult to articulate at the risk of sounding like you do not love, enjoy, appreciate the amazing things a child, and only a child, can bring to your life. I would have really loved, enjoyed, appreciated what drinking a martini with friends while listening to great music could have bought to my life last night, however. So many things are beyond our control in life, but when you become a parent, the control factor is not only out of your reach, but in someone else's hands. You are controlled by things that which you cannot control, thus the lack of personal freedom. This, like many other things, is an opportunity to remind ourselves of the benefits of being present in the moment and appreciating what is, instead of what was or could be. But sometimes, I just want a martini, a glimpse of what was, to remind me of the woman I used to be and how she became the mother I am. I want the snow to stop falling. I want to go out and play.

Sing it, George.