Even now, more often than I’d like to admit, I find myself feeling like the little sister from my original family—the one I was born into. Recently, this nostalgia hit me hard when my kids were off at camp and my partner was away on a business trip. I found myself sharing a meal with my dad and brother—the three of us, just like old times. We reminisced about family vacations, my late mother’s culinary disasters, and the legendary lifespan of our beloved family dog.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been drawn back to my roots while trying to navigate my own family life. I vividly remember calling my mom from a payphone in a hotel lobby during my honeymoon. While I was supposed to be soaking in the joys of newlywed life, I found myself chatting with her about wedding details. She gently reminded me to go enjoy my time with my husband, which I definitely was, but that familiar connection was hard to shake.
Fast forward a few years to the night my son was born. As I filled out the hospital paperwork, I mistakenly wrote my mother’s name under “mother’s name.” The nurse kindly corrected me, saying, “Sweetheart, you are the mother here.” Oh, right—got it, sort of!
Not long after that, I sat by my mom’s bedside as she faced the end of her long battle with cancer. In a moment of clarity, she urged me to go home and cherish my husband and son—my own family. She understood the transition better than I did.
Perhaps my original family’s gentle nudges to embrace my role as a grown-up made me yearn for the comfort of my childhood home. I’ve heard stories of grown-up children feeling trapped by family obligations, but my mom always emphasized giving us both roots and wings. I had the roots, but I needed stronger wings.
Over the years, I’ve gradually stretched those wings, and despite what Peter Pan taught me in that theater all those years ago, I have indeed grown up. Sure, I still call my dad for advice on tire purchases and sometimes seek my aunt’s opinion on dresses, but I’m finally at ease in my roles as a wife and mother. Took me long enough!
Now, my husband, kids, and I share our own family jokes, travel tales, and favorite meals (still no dog, despite my daughter’s begging). We are a complete, and I’d say pretty happy, family unit—just the four of us. They truly are my daily blessings—corny, but absolutely true.
Whenever I get the chance to spend time with my original family, I seize it. I’ve come to realize that it’s perfectly fine to cherish both the memories of my childhood family and the everyday joys of my own. That’s what adulthood is all about—embracing it all, along with those progressive bifocal lenses!
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Summary:
In navigating the journey of motherhood, I often find myself reflecting on my original family while embracing my new one. The memories of my childhood blend with the joys of my own family, reminding me that it’s possible to hold both close to my heart.