Before our children came along, I was an expert on parenting. I knew the answers to every question. I knew the solutions to every child and family problem. It was all extremely easy and laid out. Theoretically.
I read all the textbooks available at the time on being a mom. I had subscribed to two parenting magazines. I was very interested in all this. In addition, I graduated with a degree in Pedagogy of Preschool and Early Childhood Education, so my knowledge, all the information I acquired, was deepened and scientifically proven.
When our children appeared I was prepared.
I thought so.
In life, it is often the case that what we plan for is different, and what comes out is different. Probably because we don’t take into account various contingencies. We are not very flexible.
Anyway, I am very grateful to myself for this young passion of learning to be the perfect mom. Expanding one’s knowledge broadens one’s horizons and provides the foundation for a purposeful life. Admittedly, everyday life later verifies what we have learned, but that is the case with any theory we acquire.
So I am grateful to this twenty-something woman for her passion and wasting hours searching for a unique path, the best in the world. I am grateful to her for her youthful idealism, enthusiasm and commitment. This is some part of who I am today. I wouldn’t change a thing.
And although much of what I learned then blurred later in the afterlife, one particular text has remained in my thoughts for a long time (in fact, it’s still there). The poem. An unassuming one. Maybe even too simple. Maybe not even a poem. However, in my heart, in a bizarre way, it has remained forever and set the main direction of my motherhood. Like a compass. I have never strayed from that direction. I hope so…
A lesson in love
I will not cast the deadly noose of my years upon this young neck,
Nor will I bind his choices with life withering and my hair gray.
…But smiling I will give him freedom,
recalling once again
How lifted by a brisk, ardent breeze of hope,
with compressed muscles, breathing joyfully
long, long ago
I myself took off for a run.
…And although he will run along a different path from mine,
I will not turn him back from the path…
I will rejoice.
