My Previous Life
       By Gayle Sorensen Stringer

   In my previous life, before I was reincarnated as a
mother of three, I wore clothes that fit and matched.
I wore makeup and curled my hair every day.
But no one gave me graham cracker kisses.
No one ever told me how pretty I looked in sweats.

   In my previous life, I read "Time" magazine and the newspaper.
My repartee of regular television viewing
transcended "Arthur" and "The Magic School Bus,"
and I devoured all the best selling novels.
But no one asked me to read "The Velveteen Rabbit" at bedtime.
No one ever requested "The Little Engine that Could."

   In my previous life, I had a career and friends who
were more than three feet tall.  People asked for my
opinions and entrusted me with important projects and
confidential information.  I had conversations where not
once was mentioned snacks or potties or play dates.  But no
one asked me my favorite color or why the sky is so blue.
No one ever wanted me to sing.

   In my previous life, I had a life.  I frequented
aerobics classes, restaurants and the theater.  I hosted
parties where the themes had nothing to do with "Star Wars"
or Winnie-the-Pooh.  I shopped for myself and slept late on
weekends.  But no one made me Valentine cards.
No one ever gave me dandelion bouquets.

   In my previous life, I traveled, and my destinations
did not hinge on theme parks or swimming pools or nap
schedules.  The Mayan ruins of the Yucatan, snorkeling in
the Caribbean, museum hopping in Italy, Kabuki Theater in
Japan...these were my playgrounds.  I was the queen of the
road and my destiny.  But no one asked me to push the swing
higher.  No one ever invited me to splash in puddles or roll in the snow.

In my previous life, I held my emotions in check.  I
did not stomp my feet or grit my teeth.  I could not easily
be diminished to tears or tirades.  I considered my
demeanor as laid-back and easygoing.  But, no one made me
care enough to cry.  No one ever just loved me, anyway.
  In my previous life, I was free.  I could carve my own
path and follow my dreams.  Nothing stood in my way.  But
the path was unsure and the vision blurred.  No one ever
gave me purpose enough to soar.  Now, I endlessly rearrange
piles of laundry, crumbs and toys.  I am pulled and tugged,
hassled and harassed, stepped on and sat upon, and
desperate for some solitude.  I am jean-clad and juice-
stained, bleary-eyed and graying, underpaid and
overwhelmed.  And, sometimes I wonder who I am and what
I've become.  Then, one of my children shouts,
"Mommy, I need you!" and it is perfectly clear.
  I am the center of the Universe.
      I am MOM.

Ain't it the truth :'( :D :'( :D

Thank you I needed that! ;D :) :D

There are some days when I am sorry that I don't have any kids  :'(  Other days, I am very glad I don't have kids  :D




Cat

That is so perfect and true.

Sometimes it's easy to forget that you mean everything to your children.

That is so true, Tripsmom.  Thanks :)