Motherhood - What it Means To Me

My best friend stayed at my house during the first weekend in October for some “girl time.” She and her two-year-old daughter arrived just as they had a dozen times before, armed with duffel bags and smiles. After just a half hour together, Laurie turned to me with a serious look on her face. “Can I ask you something?” she asked.

I gave an unconcerned nod and told her to go on. I had no idea what she planned to ask, but I wasn’t worried. To my surprise, though, Laurie continued in the same serious vein as before.

“If anything happens to me, will you take Emma?”

Emma is her daughter, and I love her and Laurie both with all my heart.

Of course my answer was yes, and I answered without hesitation.

Second Thoughts

After that initial rush of emotion, though, I began to think a little more clearly. I don’t see Laurie or Emma that often because they live more than two hours from me. Moreover, Laurie had Emma in the middle of an ugly divorce, and the little girl doesn’t know her dad. He gave up all parental rights in exchange for total freedom. I, on the other hand, am married, and living with me would automatically mean living with a male, which Emma is not accustomed to.

The other dilemma, of course, is that I am not a mom.

In my mind, this means I lack those motherly traits I associate with most women. For example, Laurie arrived at my house armed with Emma’s baby doll, favorite blanket and matching pillow. She also had a container of Ovaltine, Emma’s sippy cup and a grocery bag full of snacks. All of these items were in addition to the traditional needs like pajamas, tooth brushes, hair brushes and clean socks.

When I go away for the weekend, I typically take one bag with me that contains clothing, makeup and body lotion.

So it’s easy to see how vastly different my thought process is from Laurie’s. Never in a million years would I think to pack a bag of groceries when I take a trip. If I or my husband needs a snack, we pull off the expressway, head into a gas station and grab a soda. And as one of the most forgetful people in the world, the baby doll and pillow would definitely have been left behind, probably on the kitchen table next to Emma’s diaper bag.

Packing all of the stuff I mentioned, plus the diaper bag, also identifies Laurie as a VERY patient woman.

A Day on The Town

On Saturday, she and I took Emma to a pizza joint for lunch. Emma did not sit down even once during the whole meal, but instead ate her two or three bites of pizza while standing on her chair. She banged her fork approximately 100 times against her plate, shredded three napkins into confetti-sized pieces and wriggled out from behind the table so she could run laps around the restaurant.

And yet, Laurie didn’t lose her cool for one second during any of this. She simply shrugged, sipped her cola and asked the waitress for more napkins.

I, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck.

The noise of the fork hitting the plate gave me a headache, and I worried that Emma would run head-first into a wall and suffer a concussion. I also feared she hadn’t eaten enough and would be sick later in the day. 

After we left the pizza parlor, we headed for the apple orchard. As we walked along the dirt-worn paths, Emma slipped one hand into Laurie’s and the other into mine. I held her tiny fingers and couldn’t help but feel my enthusiasm build as the cried out at every little thing. “Goats!” she yelled with a smile, and “Chickens!” with a squeal of delight.

Laurie and I laughed, as happy as Emma in her two-year-old joy.

A Realization

At the orchard, I came to realize that being a mom isn’t about packing the right toys or extending the arm of discipline at every minute of the day. It’s about loving your child and wanting the best for him or her, which Laurie so clearly does. And I understood why she had picked me to be her fill-in…because she knows I would do anything in the world to keep Emma safe and happy.

Would I be as good as Laurie at raising a two-year-old?

Probably not, but I would definitely give it my best shot. Before she left on Sunday night, I hugged her and thanked her for choosing me.

PHOTO CREDIT: rolands.lakis

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