Super

Super
And for once I was SuperMom

Friday, February 26, 2010

Un-American Moment


Today I caught myself doing a very un-American thing, after work I went to the grocery store and I bought an iced latte I had a longing to do nothing. Instead of jamming that latte into the gap between the emergency brake and the seat and racing home checking it doesn’t spill on the pockmarked roads I sat down and drank it. I had nothing to read, no list of things to mull over, no iphone, nothing to do, just me and a drink. I sat watching the European men in the food court at Village Market and wondered about my life’s choices. If I could rewind and choose differently would I do it exactly the same? Are we destined to pick what we pick? Could I have chosen differently? I think now what if I had dated one of these men with their splendidly sexy accent? But when I was single I wouldn’t have had the self esteem to think that they would have even looked at me. In fact I regularly got in my own way of having a regular dating life. The only reason that now I can look at these men and think that they would date is because of my increase in confidence because of the calm steady love of my husband.
What about the choices in my life that I did have, what if I had gone to Boston University? What if I had stayed in the Peace Corps? Or gone to graduate school at Fuller Seminary? Would I be married now? Would I be gallivanting across the globe? Would my name still be Lara Nicole Davis? One of my friends (who dares ask these kind of questions) asked me if I regretted having my baby. She was still only a month old and in a crying or eating or sleeping phase, so still quite stressful. I told her that you can’t let yourself think about things like that. Especially with a child, especially when they are difficult. You can’t change that, as of now I am always a mother. I can safely ask myself if I regret getting married and I think of the romance of still being able to do what I want with my life and I then I think of the loneliness of an empty bed at night. I think of Scott and how I just really like him and I think, ‘no, not at all.’ Now I think I think I can safely ask myself if I regret having a child, mostly I think, ‘well it’s too late now.’ I think in motherhood I found a completion of self. I remember looking down while I was nursing and thinking that this was why I was born, to take care of this little creature. There is something ultimately cosmic and profound about bringing another life into this world. At times I catch myself crying with the glory of it, of her. Of her little hands, of her little feet, of her sweet smile, of her jubilant little squeals. Regret is too small a word for this. I regret not having the photographer get a good shot of my hair at my wedding, that choice fits that word regret. A moment in time that I didn’t take advantage of, a moment I let slip, a word unsaid, a picture not taken, an opportunity I sat through. Those are regrets.
I look back at my life and think that if I had made one decision differently I may have ended up on a completely different course. If I had the confidence to know that boy liked me that I liked in high school liked me back, could I have married him or at least been his ill-fated girlfriend? I’d be his wife and not Scott’s. Would it have been as happy a marriage as I now have? Maybe not. Would I have ended up a mother? Yes, I think always I have been and will be a mother.

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