Best Intentions

For years I fantasized about one day becoming a mother. Of course I wouldn’t be anything like my own mother. I imagined my perfect child, a daughter of course. I wouldn’t buy her clothes from the Goodwill, I would dress her in the very best. She would always go to school with freshly washed hair and I would never be the last parent to arrive to pick her up from aftercare. We would have great adventures; we would go shopping in Paris, take ballet lessons together. I would pay for whatever extracurricular activities she wanted to participate in, and of course she would enjoy and be good at everything. I would never put her though divorce or move her away from her friends. I would listen patiently to everything she had to say and we would never run out of food. We would be blissfully happy together and she would always feel loved.

Reality

Of course I had a boy. Not a quiet intellectual boy, but a rowdy, blazing, energetic, feisty, piss and vinegar boy. And at no time did I transform mysteriously from a self-centered youth into a mature considerate mother. No, I didn’t change at all. I still dreamt of romance, loved to spend all day in bed reading novels, wanted to look my best and I still wanted to spend the few extra dollars I had (and there weren’t many of these) on shoes and purses. Continue Reading