Suburb January 2019

Pragmatically
anticipating
changes, some more
inevitable than
others, you have
probably worked
hard to build a life
and pursuits of your
own, around being a
mom but not only
being a mom,
whether in or
outside the home.
the shadowy monster of
childhood nightmares waiting
to grab your legs from under
the bed. Either way, change is
the unfamiliar. You are leaving
the known territory of being a
hands-on mother and nag,
looked up to for every need, to
a slowly emerging more benign
and hands-off presence, gently
letting go decision-making and
action. Yes, there’s a twinge
somewhere – especially when
you pick up the perennially
mismatched pair of socks you
would often disdainfully hold
between the tips of thumb and
forefinger, wrinkle your nose
and deposit in the washing
machine. The overriding
question you ask yourself is:
“Have I done my job well? Has
my child become capable of
taking charge of life?”
Change is a test of character.
If it teaches taking charge, the
most difficult lesson it imparts is
surrendering control. So, you
muse: “Is the insecure ‘me’not
going to let go?
In the midst of your meta
physical musing, the little devil
gleefully smirks to remind you
of your pet peeve and dream,
“Ah, the day when I am no
longer responsible for cleaning
dirty laundry!” You can now
stand in the wings, watchfully,
as you shove the ‘laundry’ onto
shoulders getting ready to take
on the world.
Change can bring actual
danger at times, but like all life,
it has to be handled.
Remember your kid’s grinning
face on coming home one day
and describing a sticky patch in
the real world? “I’m really
proud of the way I handled it,
mom!” had been announced.
And the award goes to ---
Mom!
After years of nurturing and
protecting, it takes a lot not to
reach out with a, “Let me do
it!” Now is the real test of what
you learnt when – and if – you
were allowed to stumble and
graze your knees. Because that
is what you have passed on.
Something comes underfoot.
It is a photocopy of a driving
licence and reminder of your
not-any-longer-a
kid’sobservation on “the end of
an era.” It was when an older
carwas retired. It had taken you
to school and markets and
birthday parties, seen changes
out of or into football jerseys
from uniforms in the back seat,
held muddy shoes on its floor
mats, and as the large red ‘L’ on
its windshield testified, before
bowing out had taught the new
generation. That wistfulness -
its nostalgia, happiness,
attachment and anticipation -
revealed that what has gone
will always somewhere be a
part of what you and your (notany-more-a)
baby now go on to
build individually, in changed
circumstances but by no means
an end. Just as the proceeds
from the sale of the old will
subsidise the acquiring of
replacement furniture. s
The writer loves to be
known as a parent – a
parent of two energetic
spaniels who run their
own blog and of their
elder human siblings
who run their own lives.