Growing up I loved to read any book that took me into new worlds. My favorite book, and movie, was “The Wizard of Oz”. I found the story magical and captivating. I must have read the book fifty times and seen the movie over one hundred times. Like many girls, I wanted to be Dorothy with the ruby slippers and sing and dance with the munchkins. Now, as a mother, I wish I could be one of Dorothy’s travel companions on her journey to see the Wizard: The Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. I like to imagine that now the Wizard would be servicing mothers in helping them with what they need in order to be a good mom.
Upon making it to the Emerald City, I would need to decide on asking for a brain, a heart or for courage. Pregnancy made me go into a parallel stupidity universe that I have yet to emerge. I remember when I was pregnant with my firstborn and getting off the bus to go to the flat my husband and I had at the time. I stood there for a long time looking at the buildings and totally not remembering where we lived. Fortunately, a neighbor walked by so I followed him. I knew he knew where he was going. Nowadays I do well to remember if I brushed my teeth, what day of the week it is, or if I washed the shampoo out of my hair. Yes, a brain would come in handy. However, being a bit brainless has made me rather humorous to my children. They revel in my ditsy, Jim Carrey-like faces or my spontaneous disco moments. I think a mother is reversed perhaps not into stupidity, but into a more child-like mind. So, maybe my brain is better left out of my head for a few more years.
The cruelest part of mothering is the fact that we are the bad cop. We are the enforcers of rules and discipline and have to be the instigators of many sad tears on our children’s precious faces. I think our hearts go along with our brains and take a leave of absence. I think if my heart were any more present than it already is, I would fail miserably at instilling the parameters and boundaries my children need because I would cave every time I would see their little angelic mouths start to frown.
Courage is defined by John Wayne as “being scared to death but saddling up anyway”. That is what being a mother truly is - a terrifying role, but one you have to take on daily whether you are ready or not. Courage is what I would ask the Wizard to grant for me. I am constantly looking for the courage to do what is best for my kids. It’s amazing how quickly you can see the mistakes you make as a parent. I often wish for a time machine so I can go back and get a ‘do over’ on many situations where I did not have the courage to do what my instincts told me. There are so many voices of advice coming at you when you have children and you start to doubt yourself and lean more on these outside voices. The problem turns into the voices drowning out your own voice. I want the courage to follow my own voice.
I also wish for the courage to allow my children to grow into themselves, being individuals, rather than any mold I may think they need to fit into. I hope they always feel safe to express themselves and encouraged to be anything they want to become. I hope I never discourage their creativity or ambitions. I pray that my voice never drowns their instincts. I hope I can push them when needed and pull back when necessary. I will need strength to have conversations that are awkward but essential in their well being and safety. I wish for resolve to move from aviator to navigator as they grow up and become self-sufficient.
My hands will need to be brave to let go and let them fall down – both figuratively and literally. My arms will need the strength to let them go from our home to wherever their pursuits may take them. My tongue will need audacity as I say what needs to be said, and to stay silent when it is not my business anymore. My heart will need the nerve to allow them to fall in love and have families of their own. Most of all, my head will need to be strong as I move from being the president of the family’s child raising business into retirement.
As the Wizard of Moms grants me my wish for courage and I click my heels together three times to return home, I carry my medal of courage with me. I hope that I keep it near me every day as I jump into the saddle of motherhood – not for my sake, but for my children. This is my promise to them that I hope and pray my brain and heart never forget.
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