In our cozy kitchen, my three-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Lily, stands beside me, her little fists clenched and her expression brimming with intensity reminiscent of a young Holly Hunter. As my partner, Alex, cooks dinner, I find myself recounting a frustrating encounter from earlier—a moment when someone didn’t quite grasp my point during a discussion, whether in an email or at the grocery store.
“Mommy! Mommy! If you don’t talk to me I, I, I…” Her wide eyes dance with urgency as she struggles to articulate a fitting consequence for my distraction. “If you don’t talk to me, I won’t be alive anymore,” she finally declares.
I look down at my spirited child, sporting her “I Love New York” t-shirt and corduroys. Oh, how she feels the weight of this moment. It’s hard to believe that one of us is nearly four while the other is inching closer to forty.
Wearing my nightgown at five in the evening, I’m exhausted and need just five minutes to finish my thought, followed by a hot bath to soothe my charley-horsed legs from ballet class. Maybe then a quick fifteen to jot down some ideas, and an hour to unwind with Wolf Hall.
I scoop up my daughter. “Did you know,” I say, “that parents are people too?” She gazes intently into my eyes, fully engaged. This is what she wants—my undivided attention.
“Mommies are people. People with children.” I reach back into the recesses of my memory for the lyrics to “Parents Are People” from the beloved children’s album, Free to Be You and Me.
“When Mommies were little, they used to be girls. Like some of you, but then they grew.” Suddenly, I’m transported back to my childhood room, sitting on the orange shag carpet, surrounded by leotards and the scent of textbooks wrapped in brown paper. I recall the music that shaped my youth: A Chorus Line, Stacey Q, Billy Vera and the Beaters, the Princess Bride soundtrack, and of course, Free to Be You and Me.
I find the album on iTunes—note to self: get a record player for the authentic sound—and we start to dance. My little girl, though half my height, fits perfectly in my arms as we sway to the familiar tune.
“Mommies are women. Women with children, busy with children and things that they do…” As dusk settles outside our window, we sing and sway together, watching the world outside our New York City block come alive with people heading home.
My partner turns off the stove, allowing dinner to wait as we share this moment. “I don’t care if I’m pretty at all, and I don’t care if you never get tall. I like what I look like, and you’re nice small. We don’t have to change at all.”
In the past, Lily would ask why I teared up while listening to certain songs, but she no longer does. She understands now that there exists a mystical space where parents can be both fully present with their children and lost in their own memories. This moment, filled with nostalgia and connection, is what binds us as parent and child.
As I reflect on these fleeting years, I want my daughter to know: we don’t have to change at all. For more insights on parenting and building healthy relationships, check out this informative blog post.
In summary, teaching our children about boundaries is essential, and what better way than through the timeless melodies of Free to Be You and Me? Not only do we share our experiences, but we also create a nurturing space for them to learn about their own emotions and the world around them. For those considering home insemination options, you can find reputable products at Make A Mom and excellent resources at Resolve.
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