(Note: if you’re one of the many who skip my “writing” posts…don’t. Not today.)
For thirty hours last weekend, I lived out a fantasy. I left behind diapers and whining and runny noses and kids who change their mind ten times and food prep and cleanup…and I went to a writer’s convention.
I walked the halls of the Westport Sheraton with purpose, knowing the time was short and this was my time to seize the hour. I filled every moment with conversation, with mental stimulation, with picking the brains of people who share some of the same dreams. I asked questions, I made connections, handed out business cards, and honestly didn’t dwell much on those I’d left at home. Because this was my weekend. A weekend to be a writer. Not a writer mama. Just a writer.
As Saturday wound down, I found myself regretting that I hadn’t stretched the time, paid the extra money for masterclasses on Sunday morning. But I knew that at the other end of the highway, I had a husband who was probably quickly reaching his saturation point with single parenthood. It was time to go home.
I left the convention center on another freakishly hot afternoon destined to end in thunderstorms and restarting the heater. I had to stop somewhere for dinner, so I whipped out my emergency-only cell phone and called my sister. “Whatcha doing? Want to come have dinner?”
A spur-of-the-moment dinner date? Me? It felt …strange. Unsettling. A little guilty. Because as the pavement unfolded between me and the dreamy unreality of Convention, all the Mommy parts of me began to wake back up.
After a flying dinner at Culver’s (for which the scales is still chastising me), I apologetically took my leave and got back on the road. Zooming toward the setting sun, my mind and heart, which had remained firmly focused on me all weekend, began to stretch homeward. And for the first time I felt a pang of longing for those at the other end of the highway, who surely missed me.
It wasn’t time enough. I wanted more time to spend by myself. I hadn’t gotten to stretch out across the bed and read, to get up and write an essay on my NEO without having to worry about rousting someone out of bed. I wanted more time in which I was not responsible for nurturing any young hearts or caring for mature relationships. I wanted more time just for me. And yet I knew that if there had been enough time, I would still have been dissatisfied, because still a part of myself would be missing.
They say that parenthood is having your heart walk around outside your body. I realize now that parenthood is a perpetual state of dividing yourself, a state in which there will never—can never—be enough of me to go around. I’ll always wish I have more time for me, for them, for husband, for revisiting the unencumbered me of earlier years. Part of me will always long to sit on the old tin roof back at the farm and watch the sunset fade into starry night. Part of me will always long for more time (and money) to attend conventions, to network, write, and fulfill the questing of my heart. But if I did any of those things as much as I wanted, another part of me would cry out. Because wherever I am, a piece of me is walking around a house, a school, a campus…looking at books, punching buttons on that stupid Mozart cube, playing superhero-of-the-day, repeating “Ma-ma? Ma-ma? Ma-ma?”
It will never be enough. But that’s a sign of the richness of my life. And for these moments of understanding, I am so very, very grateful.
Kathleen M. Basi 
I think every mother relates to just what you’re feeling. You summed it up wonderfully! I can’t wait to hear about your conference. See you also had a positive query response? Tell, tell!
I get to send a partial to Avalon, so we’ll see–I’m very excited about that; I think it’s a good fit for what I write. We’ll see if she likes it. I also pitched to Kathleen Ortiz, who referred me to her partner agent, saying that would be a better fit. And I now have an article in WOW as well, so all in all I’m pretty pumped about the weekend! 🙂
That’s great news! I hope things work out well. 🙂
Yup, that’s about how motherhood feels. Even when you are one place, your heart is in other places. But it’s good to get a sliver of time that is solely for us, too. I have said for years that I need to get to a retreat for a weekend of prayer and quiet…but i haven’t done it for multiple reasons…but one being how much I would miss my husband and children and how much they would miss me.
Oh, Michelle, you should. Imagine how wonderfully recharged & refreshed you would be, how much more of you there would be to go around afterward! I know, you’re in baby stage again, and it’ll be a while…but that’s on my list, too.
Awesome. (You’ve also just helped free me of some of the guilt I feel when I leave home and realize 3 days later I’ve barely thought of anything but what I was doing…)
Yes, our lives are very rich, aren’t they?
(I never ignore your writing posts! 🙂
I feel this way sometimes and I’m not a mother. I think as women (human beings) we all need ‘me’ time – to recharge and keep going.
Beautifully written 🙂
I struggle with this juggling act, and the reactions of my single friends have surprisingly made the biggest impact to re-examine my priorities.
Whenever I gripe about my children constantly neeeeeding me, and the seemingly insurmountable piles of laundry and dishes… and how guilty I feel for spending a few evening hours on my art (when my husband deserves some attention)…
Whenever I admit to envying the complete freedom and independence of my friends’ lives, all that blessed time to devote entirely to their own projects…
They never fail to admonish me by saying:
“But I want what you have, Tara.”
Whether it’s the friend searching to settle down, or another friend who is having difficulty conceiving,
they look at my life – the supportivw husband and adorable kids – and recognize how fulfilling it is.
Where I can only see whining and screaming little monsters, they will see tiny, loving angels.
We sometimes need to step outside ourselves to get that reality check, and understand our blessings for what they truly are. 🙂
Tara, this is the most insightful thing I’ve heard all day. Maybe all week. I’d say “ever,” but Dottie’s comment about baby moms vs. older kid moms still holds that one. Anyway, this is so true! Although you know you don’t JUST see whining screaming monsters. We see the beauty in our lives–it’s just we tend to focus on the rest, I think.
LOL Thanks, you know, flattery will get you anywhere. 😉
I was just thinking this morning about how easily one screaming tantrum can erase our memories of their tender moments…
Remember that floral bouquet my son gave me? What… huh?! I can’t hear you, sorry, he’s thrashing on the ground and demanding another popsicle.
But the opposite is also true, as we both realize that one sweet display of affection can absolve everything.
And that is what cameras are for!
We need to fill our walls with beautiful memories to remind us to forgive the rest. 😉
LOVE this, Kathleen! We can’t separate ourselves out. We must be ALL of who we are. Thank you.
Not being a parent, I realize I can’t know what it’s like to experience what you feel–being ‘torn’ in both duties and feelings. But I’ll join the voices encouraging you to be grateful for your family, in spite of the challenges it brings. A number of longstanding personal problems have prevented me from being able to experience things that a lot of people take for granted, such as having a spouse and children to share your life with. So I find myself envying folks like you and want to encourage you to be thankful for your beloved little tykes and appreciate them all you can. God bless.
Evan