I Burned My Bra For This? One Woman's Fantasy
By Cheryl Shireman
I’m a Baby Boomer. Which means that I remember
bell-bottoms, Happy Days, and having only three channels on the television. I
played Donny Osmond albums on a record player. My parents watched Gunsmoke, and
on Sunday nights we all watched The Wonderful World of Disney. In the living
room. Together. On the only television we owned. Imagine that! I remember the
first time I saw Bonanza in color. I remember the first time I heard about
remote controls for televisions. The whole idea seemed ridiculous. With three
channels, really, how often would it be needed? I remember the Watergate
hearings playing on the television when I came home from school.
I also remember watching feminists (does anyone use
that word anymore?) burn their bras and march for equal rights. I grew up
believing that a woman deserves equal pay for equal work and that a woman is
not defined by the man she marries or by the children she gives birth to. In
fact, we were told that both men and children were optional. The idea seemed
revolutionary at the time. It still does. Women were mad as hell and they
weren’t taking it anymore. We called it Women’s Liberation, and though it was
never said, it was certainly implied (and believed in most circles) that a
woman who did not work was a bit inferior to a career woman. That was when such
women were called housewives and not “stay at home” moms. Women were divided
into two groups – those who worked and those who didn’t. Back then, no one
thought that staying home and taking care of a family and home was work. The
women of my generation wanted more, demanded more, and believed we were
entitled to just that – more. We sometimes looked at our own mothers, most of
whom did not have real jobs, as women
who simply did not understand that there was more to life than being a mother.
If truth be told, we thought they were a bit simple-minded and we secretly
vowed to do more with our lives.
And yet…as this Baby Boomer looks at her life, I
realize nothing I have ever done, or will ever do, is as important as being a
mother. Not career, volunteer work, graduate school, or any creative pursuit.
Nothing else even comes close to being a mother. Period.
One of my children lives half an hour away, another
is one state away, and the third is on the other side of the world in Denmark.
Yesterday, my husband and I spent the entire day with our two-year-old
granddaughter. She then spent the night. As I write this, I hear her gentle
breathing in the baby monitor positioned atop the table close to where I sit.
To say that my children, and now my granddaughter,
have filled my life with love and joy is an understatement. As children, they
expanded my heart in ways I could never have imagined. For the first time in my
life, I not only understood, but received unconditional love. As adults, they
are three people that I know I can always count on. They will always be there
for me. Just as I will always be there for them. Can you say the same about
your career?
There used to be a television show called Fantasy
Island. People visited the island and lived out their fantasies – no matter how
wild (okay, not that wild – this was primetime family tv in the seventies). Not
too long ago, my husband and I had a discussion about that old tv show and
asked each other – What would your fantasy be? Mine was easy. If I could have a
Fantasy Island day, I would relive one day with my children. My son would be
10, which would make my daughters 4 and 2. We would spend the day doing
whatever they wanted. Going to the park, going to the movies, playing games,
baking cookies, or just sitting on the floor playing with Legos and Barbies. I
would hug them a lot. And kiss the tops of their heads. And take tons of
pictures. I wouldn’t cook. I wouldn’t clean. And I wouldn’t worry about my
career.
I would watch my son show his younger sisters how
to do things, like he always did in his older brother sort of way. I would
watch my 2 year-old daughter follow her older 4 year-old sister around the
room, shadowing her every move. Just as she did, even through their college
years when they shared an apartment near Indiana University. I would watch the
older sister taking care of her younger sister, as if she were her baby.
Which is what she called her when she was born – my baby.
Bedtime would be later than usual on that fantasy
night. I would tuck them into their beds, fresh from baths and smelling of
shampoo. The girls smelling like baby lotion. My son would hug me goodnight
with his long skinny arms and tell me he loves me. And I would feel the truth
in that. I would tuck in my girls and tell them it is time to go to sleep. I
would take extra care in covering the older girl’s feet, because she always
kicked her blankets off during the night. I would kiss the baby and hold her a
little longer, because I would know that, as I type this she is in Denmark
which makes visiting tough.
And, as I walk down the hall and turn out the
lights, I would call out to all of them, as I always did… “Goodnight. Love you.
Sweet dreams. See you in the morning.”
And that would be my fantasy day. Oddly enough, it
has nothing to do with my career as a writer. Even though being a writer has
always been my dream. My first novel, Life is But a Dream: On the Lake, was
published earlier this year. The main character, Grace Adams, is a woman facing
an empty nest and the possible demise of her marriage. Grace withdraws to a
secluded lake cabin to redefine her life and try to find a reason to continue
living. While at the lake, Grace not only finds renewed purpose and hope, but when
things take a turn for the worse at the lake, she finds a strength she never
knew she possessed. The novel is thought-provoking, sometimes frightening, and
often funny (just like life). It is also, very definitely, fiction.
I'm not Grace. Even though my “nest” is empty, I am
enjoying this time and this new focus on my career. I am not suicidal or
lacking in purpose. My husband and I both work from home (he designs websites),
we live on a lake, and our schedule is our own. It is truly a wonderful time in
our lives. Sometimes I have popcorn for dinner. Enough said.
But, would my current life be as wonderful if I had
not pursued career and graduate school and developed the skills I am using now?
Probably not. I managed to combine work and school and motherhood. I believed I
could have it all, and do it all, but to be honest – the kids always came
first. And being a mother is the strongest and best part of my identity. It is
the thing I am most proud of. My greatest achievement. And, once in a while, I miss
those days when toys where scattered across the floor, the washer was always running,
and we bought eight gallons of milk a week.
If you have children at home, cherish those simple
every-day moments with them. They really will be gone in the blink of an eye –
sooner than you can possibly imagine. Put this book down. Now. Go sit on the
floor and play a game. Pop some popcorn, put on one of their favorite movies,
and cuddle up on the couch. Live that “fantasy” right now. You will never be
able to recapture these moments. Enjoy them now. There is no greater gift than
the love of your children. Spend the rest of your day letting it pour over you.
And pour your love right back over them. You can come back to this book
tonight, after they are asleep.
As I type this, I can hear my granddaughter waking
up. I am shutting my computer off. Right now, I am going to go upstairs and
scoop her up from her crib. She will probably wrap her little arms around my
neck and ask, “Play blocks, Bomb Bomb?”
And we will play blocks.
This is one story
from Indie Chicks: 25 Women 25 Personal Stories available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. To read all of the stories, buy your
copy today. All proceeds go to the breast cancer research.
Also included are
sneak peeks into 25 novels! My novel, Life Is But a Dream: On The Lake,
is one of the novel excerpts featured. It is available at most online retailers
in trade paperback as well as e-book formats.
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