If someone had told me during my teenage years, while I was engrossed in a novel by Jack Kerouac or jamming to R.E.M. on my cassette player, that I would eventually be a stay-at-home mom to six kids, I would have laughed in disbelief. “No way, man!” I’d have said. “I’m not going to be tied down by this boring domestic life.” The thought of raising a family and embracing traditional parenting roles felt alien to my free-spirited self.
Fast forward to now, and here I am, expecting my seventh child at 41, packing lunches, braiding hair, and, believe it or not, I’ve kicked the smoking habit. My youthful plans of joining the Peace Corps and finding a like-minded partner to share a farm with never came to fruition. Instead, I find myself happily married to a man who rarely picks up a tool and living in a bustling household that consumes groceries like there’s no tomorrow.
Despite the dramatic shifts in my lifestyle, some remnants of my teenage self still linger:
- My Love for Reading: I still have a passion for books, although it now takes me about a year to finish one. I prefer reading titles that don’t feature cartoon characters on the cover. Unfortunately, my bedside table is now a graveyard of unread books, silently judging me and collecting dust.
- My Taste in Music: I still enjoy great music, even if my kids think it’s “lame.” My beloved Neko Case and Wilco CDs don’t resonate with the little ones. I’ve reluctantly learned the lyrics to many Top 40 hits, which makes me cringe, though I’ll admit Ed Sheeran’s charm is hard to resist.
- Fashion Awareness: I keep an eye on fashion trends—not because I plan to wear them, but to know what I’ll be firmly saying “no” to when it comes to my kids’ wardrobes. Trust me, there are some choices out there that require a stern “Um, no thanks.”
- Desire for the Party Bus: I used to dream of hopping on a band’s tour bus to meet musicians. Now, I just need a 12-passenger van to accommodate my growing family. The only “drugs” on this bus are my trusty Xanax for stressful road trips, along with some Benadryl for the kids.
- Appreciation for Solitude: At 17, I cherished my alone time, lost in deep thoughts. These days, I rarely get that kind of peace, but when I do, I might manage to read a few pages of one of those aforementioned books I keep promising to finish by late 2017.
- Love That Endured: Surprisingly, I’m still madly in love with the same guy I adored as a teenager. He’s evolved into an incredible father, and our relationship has grown in ways I never anticipated.
- Smoke Signals: Sometimes, you can still find me in a cloud of smoke, but it’s not from cigarettes. It’s usually because I burnt dinner—who knew chicken nuggets could take 64 minutes in the oven? Our smoke alarm has become so familiar that my kids hardly react anymore.
My teenage self had no idea I would one day be concerned with ingredient labels or celebrate the little victories of parenting, like getting laundry done before it mildews. She didn’t appreciate the bliss of a good night’s sleep or the joy of a coffee that doesn’t require reheating multiple times.
I’m grateful that the artistic, rebellious girl I was didn’t have a clue about where to find true happiness. Life is about navigating the unexpected, embracing the chaos, and being open to joy in unfamiliar forms. So, dear 17-year-old me, I may have ended up wearing the apron of domesticity, but I’m truly rocking it.
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Summary
This article reflects on the surprising ways in which the author’s teenage self still influences her adult life as a devoted mother. From a passion for reading and music to a love that has endured, the author finds joy and humor in the unexpected turns life has taken. Embracing both the chaos and the mundane, she celebrates her journey into motherhood.
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