As it is with every family, we have our share of family stories. They aren’t hundreds of years old or filled
with prophetic wisdom, but still we have our anecdotes that Grandma Lynda or
Aunt Adie remind us of every time certain topics emerge.
One story that I have heard several times is that of my
early career choices. Allegedly, mother asked the bossy, self confident 3 year old version of myself
what I wanted to be when I grew up and I boisterously announced that I was
going to be “ a doctor, a teacher and a mommy.”
This story has been recounted at my high school graduation, at my med-school
graduation, and probably a few times during each of my pregnancies. I applaud the younger version of myself for
having the wherewithal to say something so prophetic that it somehow happened
to come true. High points on the
credibility monitor even though the only person around to corroborate the truth
has a vested interest in this story since she has told it SO. MANY. TIMES.
Tonight, completely out of the blue and by utter
happenstance, I had a few moments with Mia on her own. I had made a lovely roast beef dinner for the
family and Rob and Toby had vacated shortly thereafter to go to – you guessed
it – hockey practice. Mia may be good for morning smiles and cheerful
companionship but she is completely USELESS when it comes to helping to clean
up the dinner table. After asking her
SIX TIMES to go bring something from the table to the kitchen (the last time
she had brought ONE SINGLE fork) I finally gave up and allowed her to just sit
at the kitchen counter and colour while I cleaned up. (Ya.
Cause THAT’s helpful.)
As she coloured, Mia chatted away to me. Watching me laboriously scrub the roasted
potatoe remnants off of the bottom of the roasting pan she asked me, “Is it
HARD to be a Mommy?”
“NO!” I replied automatically “Why would you ask that?”
“Well…” she said as she shook her head and went back to her
colouring, “It seems like an AWFUL lot of work.
Making dinner…cleaning up from dinner…putting us to bed…”
I applauded her keen empathy and observations skills and explained
to her that, like any job, there are wonderful thing about it but there is also
some exertion involved. I took the
opportunity to remind her that some of the most rewarding jobs in the world
required some degree of hard work.
“OH…So being a Mommy is like being a doctor and
like being a teacher?”
She asked earnestly.
I agreed as she continued, “Because you have a student right, now, don’t
you Mommy?” (She has heard me talk about
my resident that is with me for 6 months this year, doing a 3rd year
of extra training in palliative care). “Yes,
I said, I am a teacher, too.”
“So you’re a Mommy, a Doctor AND a Teacher?”
It was almost as if I had been set up. After YEARS of hearing the story I looked
around for Grandma Lynda and was sad that she wasn’t here to bear witness to
this ULTIMATE TRIUMPH. Was I about to be
struck down by lightening?? Had my absolute life goal just been REALIZED and
announced out loud to the GODS?!??!
“Um….YA…. that’s right…”
I replied hesitantly.
“SO what’s your FAVOURITE job?” she asked me.
“What do YOU think” I answered.
At first she guessed Doctor.
Then she guessed teacher. (In
fairness to her, I WAS doing the dishes as we spoke…) It was a rather tender moment we shared when
I smiled at her and she realized that my favourite job was that of being her
mother.
What a perfect blog post this would have been if I could
have ended it here -- with Mia and I skipping off to bedtime, arm in arm in the
blissful mother-daughter realization that we made up one another’s most perfect
existence…(while a sparkling clean kitchen and roasting pan sat drying in the
sink….)
But as life has it…these poignant moments are fleeting, and,
especially when it comes to Mia, often followed by a second line of
questioning.
“Well if it’s SO GREAT being a Mommy, why doesn’t EVERYONE
just do it?”
“Well….” I explained, still scrubbing away, “Not everyone
WANTS to be a mommy. And not everyone’s bodies cooperate and can make a baby
all that easily.”
Seemed innocuous to me – didn’t it? Not to Mia.
That was a LOADED GUN.
WHAT did our bodies NEED to do to have a baby and HOW did it
do that and WHY did a man have to help and HOW did that seed get in there and
WHEN was HER body going to be ready for all of this and WHY was mine still
DOING THAT?!?!?!?
I kid you not. This
MAY go down as one of our family “stories” for years to come. I covered everything from sperm-egg infiltration
to the female menstrual cycle all in the span of one very vigorous scrubbing of
a roasting pan.
Mia GLOSSED over the love-making part and focused instead on
the whole menstrual bleeding part. Did
it hurt? Did I have to go to the
hospital when it happened? Did it STILL
HAPPEN to me at MY ripe old age? And did
Daddy drive the car everywhere while it was happening? (Some of her questions made more sense than
others…)
Finally, much to my delight, there was a pause in the rapid
fire questioning and Mia settled back into her colouring.
I relished the silence.
“Well, Mom…” she said with her head down, “That all seems
like a LOT of work to me. I think I’d
just RATHER be a man.”
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And so there you have it.
Just as I was about to celebrate the completion of my own ultimate
life’s purpose, the merriment was struck short by my daughter’s gender identity
crisis. I guess that’s just part of
being a Mom…
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