It’s odd being human, sometimes. We find ourselves wishing for all sorts of things. Even if intangible, we can never seem to sit still and settle with what we already have.
It’s as though the notion of being completely, utterly satisfied with the here and now is ludicrous.
How can all that we hope and desire possibly be atttainable in this lifetime ? Where all that is around – books, movies, conversations – they all tell us that we’re all supposed to keep striving…for something…for anything that’s better…than what is readily available.
Like it is for most new mothers, it was rare that I had a spare moment to think for me. And honestly, that was fine. At first.
I was deeply engrossed in the entire nurturing role that I was finally blessed with.
I’m not exactly sure though, when it started to happen; when I began to feel that possibly life did go beyond motherhood. Somewhere between a dirty nappy and a toddler tantrum, I wanted my career back. Or at least some simplified version of it.
I yearned for adult interaction. I searched for tasks and projects that didn’t just involve the betterment of the family, but to build my own sense of identity and priority.
“When,” I would desperately wonder, “are they going to get big enough, so I can get some of my life back ???”
But then, as I sat in the cafe of that busy shopping mall, biting away at time, counting the minutes until I had to pick up the boys from their first day at day care, I realised how silly I was, wishing all those precious baby moments away.
I sat alone at my table. There were no munchkins crawling all over me, begging for my attention. I no longer had reasons to complain.
What seemed like an eternity of being housebound; exhausted from tandem breastfeeding; stressed from dealing with two screaming toddlers; that was now all gone. None of it to ever return again.
And that’s when I looked back and shamefully remembered how I wasn’t completely satisfied with the here and now.
I wondered why I spent so many days and nights wishing for my independence, while I foolishly didn’t stop to realise, that it wasn’t going to take long for my babies to set off and find their own.
As I checked my watch, relieved that pick up time had finally arrived, there was that bittersweet feeling again. One that I’m becoming familiar with as a mother.
That time is indeed fleeting; not even your children or your love for them can anchor it.
But if we can at least be happy in that instant; find some contentment; there’s the chance that it will stay with us.
Even for just that little bit longer.