Being a single mother I decided early on that I didn't want my kids to grow up feeling deprived because they didn't have a father. I wanted them to know they can be or do anything they want in this life, whether they have a father or not. It was always important to me that they know their happiness comes from inside and not what they have on the outside.
But I also felt pressured to be both mother and father to them, so I found myself doing things I thought a father would do with them-even if I didn't want to. And I refused to be one of those single mothers too afraid to let their kids be adventurous. And, as nutty as it sounds, I didn't want them to think I was afraid for fear they would be afraid then too.
Case and point, last summer I took my twelve-year-old twins to Big Surf, a huge water park with water slides that range from super extreme to mild. And the minute I walked into the park, the first slide I saw was dark blue, four stories high and went straight down. My first thought was no way, am I going down that thing. But my kids saw it and screamed, "Come on Mom, let's go down that one." I quickly responded, "Oh, I think I need to go down some of the moderate slides first and get my courage up."
But soon enough they were begging me to try the dark blue slide, so I acquiesced, thinking it can't hurt me, it'll just be a little scary. As we walked up the steep ramp to the launching point, I was screaming inside, I do not want to go down this slide. Yet when I saw the look on my kids faces of total joy and excitement that I was going to try it-I couldn't say no.
Soon it was my turn, my heart was racing and I thought, Okay, I'll do this just once for my kids and that's it-besides it can't be that bad. Then it was my turn-I slowly stepped up into the large circular opening at the top of the slide, and look down to see if I could see the bottom-but I couldn't-it was pitch black. I sat in position with my legs dangling in front of me. My heart was beating so loud I could hardly hear the rush of the water or the instructions the lifeguard was giving me. All I heard was, "Lean...ankles...Go."
I'm not sure if I finally pushed myself forward or if the lifeguard did, but before I knew it, I was falling into the dark abyss. I couldn't feel the slide underneath me and it felt like I was free falling. I screamed uncontrollably for four of the longest seconds in my life.
Finally, I was out and sliding horizontally until I came to a stop. I was never so glad to feel the earth beneath me. As I stood up, I quickly realized my swimming suit was wedged way up my backside-so bad that it hurt. But I didn't care I was just glad it was over. I quickly rearrange my suit and then ran to the bathroom to make sure I was still anatomically correct. Thank goodness I was, but while in the bathroom I realized this was more than just a wedgie-it was a message.
I don't need to be both mother and father to my kids-just their mother. But more importantly, I don't have to sacrifice my happiness in order for my kids to be happy. That doesn't serve them or me. In fact, it teaches them not to respect my position, or me. And like the wedgie, it's hurtful to my being.
Now, I feel liberated knowing I only need to be their mom and without my suit up my backside!
