I Want to Be a "Rock Star" Mom

I always find comfort when I hear movie stars, professional athletes, physicians and others in the public eye (who have demanding jobs and schedules) say that their most important job is that of being a parent. Julia Roberts (she's my age : 0 ) went on Oprah recently to tout the most important role of her career, motherhood. I guess it makes me think - wow, a person living a privileged life - wants exactly what I do - to be the best mom or dad. If they accomplish that all these other accolades fade away. I realize that maybe I'm not missing out on anything after all.

A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at school on a Monday morning. She skipped off to the front door wearing a zippy white, brown and plaid skirt, her Mary Janes and an Old Navy t-shirt that said "My Mom is Rock Star". I felt like a rock star that day... the night before I had prepared her snacks, filled out permissions slips and water bottles, ironed her clothes and laid out her lunch money, library books & ballet bag for the entire week. We arrived at school on time and I felt good about myself. We had our act together and were both prepared for another week in the world.

Four hours later, I was eating lunch at my desk and got a phone call from the school nurse. My daughter had thrown up in the school cafeteria! Did she have any other symptoms? Could it be strep? Has anyone else in her class been sick or gone home early? My mind raced to calling the pediatrician's office on my speed dial, getting someone to cover me at work for the rest of the day and thinking of what would I do about the next day - she couldn't be at school in a 24 hour period after getting sick.

I drove to her school quite dejected thinking of the shirt she was wearing and how what a joke it was - a mockery now because I was feeling quite unlike a "rock star" super mom at the moment. When I arrived she confessed that she had eaten ranch dressing on a chocolate chip cookie. Maybe it's a stomach bug and the combination she had eaten was too much to take I thought, but I still worried about the rest of our week and how it would unfold. I couldn't bear to look at the sassy shirt any longer.

We went home and changed out of school and work clothes and she was imprisoned on the couch for the rest of what would be a low-key afternoon. I had to talk myself out of beating myself up from worrying about my boss and job, and slowly began to realize that it's okay to come out of overdrive and just simply be mom for the afternoon.

As a parent, I worry everyday over parenting her - that I don't get to spend enough time with her - that I don't read to her every night, that she is living in a single parent home, that she eats a good breakfast and enough fruit and vegetables each day, what would happen to her if I died early, not having $$ to have decent life insurance to leave behind if something did happen to me, making sure she goes to college, not having a father figure in her daily life, that she lives a good, moral life with me as a role model, that I don't have enough $$ in my bank account for an emergency fund, that if she could she would be a night owl, that if I accept a movie invite from a friend that I feel guilty spending time away from her. Sometimes all that alone is so overwhelming to me.

So to hold it together I try to keep everything moving forward in one direction at a safe, speed. Try to keep us on a routine so our family life runs smooth and we don't notice the person missing from the picture. We had to paint a new photo of what our family looks like and we are both finally getting used to it.

Who doesn't want to be a "rock star" mom that has fun with their child and makes super parenting decisions. I do. I want to be on top of everything in her life, give her piano and violin lessons, get her a math tutor, be involved in her community and set a good example at all times and want the correct words to come out of my mouth in teaching moments. But in a total "rock star" mom fantasy world, I would love to fly her to Chicago and treat her to lunch at the American Girl Place and spend the afternoon looking at the dinosaurs at the The Field Museum. Or take her to Serendipity's in NYC so she can have a Frrrozen Hot Chocolate and jump on the piano at FAO Schwarz. Or watch her swim with a dolphin on a Disney cruise.

Like any parent, I naturally want to give my daughter the world. But naturally all she needs is a mom who is loving, patient, and kind (especially after hearing chocolate chip cookies dipped in ranch type confessions). It's intrinsic that we know this, but good to remind ourselves that your child doesn't care if you are a rock star or a person of privilege to be able to provide the basics - love, boundaries and a happy home.

The Kindness of Strangers

There have been many instances in my journey where I have had to rely on the kindness of strangers. In all of the instances, as the receiver of these acts of kindness, the acts directed towards me always touches me to my very soul.

In the months that followed our separation, my car started a rapid decline in health. The Jeep Grand Cherokee, which had once been a status symbol of our financial union, had over 270,000 miles on it. It had served me well. The SUV was medium sized not monster sized and I loved to drive it.

At 270,000 it started having some minor aches and pains and in a car like this they were not always the most inexpensive fixes. I found a local dealership that would help me. The car and I would limp in, I would drive it through through the service bay and get out and hand my keys to the assistant service manager. Over the months that ensued I found myself driving the familiar route once or twice a month and a few times, AAA would be summoned for transport.

I'm not sure how the service manager found out, but somehow he knew I was going through some hard times. Once I arrived at the end of the day to pick up my Jeep, walked up to the window to collect my bill and all the service fees had been waived and I had only been charged for the parts. Knowing the bill was wrong, I asked for the service manager. He quickly appeared inquired if everything was alright with my car and I told him my concern. He laid a hand on my shoulder and told me that "Yes, the bill is absolutely correct." Trying to hold back tears to save us both the embarrassment, I could barely mouth my "Thank you so much" out to him before blindly walking to my car. This happened more than once.

Once one of the mechanics said in passing, the black Jeep is back again? And I saw the Service Manager cut his eyes at him and I'm sure that later he got a good dressing down. How did this service manager get to be me and my Jeep's personal guardian angel?

One morning with my 4-year-old belted into her car seat, I pulled into the familiar bay and I saw him give a nod to the mechanics and they surrounded my car. I hadn't even turned off my engine yet. Two young men had opened my car doors, taken my keys, filled out my service report, gently unbuckled my daughter, removed her car seat and back pack and upon seeing my eyes water with grateful tears they quickly shuttled me and my belongings to the front of the Courtesy Car line ahead of many those waiting. It was like I had my own personal pit crew everytime I arrived. I could almost hear the paging system blaring "Woman about to cry in service bay - take care of her fast!!" If I wasn't so desperate at the time, it would have almost been comical.

It meant so much to me at the time, because I did need the extra help, but I didn't understand why they were helping me and not the next person. Needless to say, thanks to the continual breakdown of my car, the men in the service department didn't stay strangers for long. However, their kindness touched and humbled me in a way I can't describe.

It doesn't end there - I have had gift cards appear mysteriously in my mailbox, help with odds and ends and a group of nameless friends at church knitted me a prayer shawl. My family supports me in a never ending fashion. I have been stripped and humbled in ways that I didn't know possible; maybe this is the lesson in all this for me. I once had been hopeless and I found my way out. Through the help of my family and the kindness of strangers, my faith and hope have been miraculously restored.