My childhood may be long gone but my inner child lives; not as much as I’d like her to, but she’s still there. She’s easily excitable, believes in magic, wonders why/why/why, and at her best- will forgive fully, apologize sincerely, and judge nothing. She’ll also unintentionally embarrass those around her (it's too fun to
act a fool have fun). You see, I don’t wanna grow up! I want to be forever young [in spirit] and enjoy experiences the way children do. So when I eventually did “grow up,” I was delighted that my newfound freedom enabled chili-cheese fries with each meal, T.V. until midnight, and making my bed when I freaking felt like it. Doing what I want sans restrictions? Every kids’ dream.
But as much as I want to goof-off, run rampantly, make-believe, and eat junk food all-day-all-night, I can’t shake the truth: I’m responsible, I’m a mom. Being a rule maker/enforcer/straight up bossy is part of the whole child rearing shebang and is proving to be a powerful antidote to my anarchist nature. I thought having a kid would allow me to be more of a kid but the opposite is happening: I’m actually becoming more of an adult. Ick, what a drag.
My high hopes for playing one of the “five little monkeys jumping on the bed” alongside my son has been replaced with motherly concerns for the bumping of heads. The back-to-back chocolate bar binges are further and farther in between and I have zero desire to stay up later than need be because quite frankly, I’m exhausted. Skipping dinner? Not a chance. Waking up whenever? Ain’t happening. I once believed I would be the cool mom who'd let her kid do whatever because said kid would appreciate boundaries and would actually want to be sensible. Obviously if you stand on a toy car enough, you WILL fall on the tile floor; it has wheels, Dylan. Yeah uhm, not so obvious and not so appreciated, apparently. And though I still take every chance I get [within reason] to be childlike with Dylan, "within reason" is proof enough that my childhood really is long gone.
This whole “parenting” gig has taught me that with each sticky-handed, freedom-seeking, shelf-climbing, nocturnal child that comes to be, an adult is born. And according to my [at times] boring but rewarding routine, my fatigued but well-nourished body, I’m really okay with being forever young on a part-time basis because have you seen my son? He’s pretty neat. Take a good look, I’m a no-nonsense mom...now.