Tonight I escaped. I fed my daughter dinner, laid out some PJs and bid my husband adios as I slipped out the door. Giddy with excitement, I practially peeled out of the driveway in my haste. Freedom!
Once a month I play Pokeeno with girlfriends. For 10 years we've gathered to snack, sip wine and share stories and heartaches. We bolster each other, calm fears, offer counsel about how to cure colic. They're the ones I turn to when I need a new hair stylist or an attitude adjustment. (Tonight I got both.) They are my circle of trust.
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We are moms, yes. But we are so much more than that. We reaffirm the parts of ourselves that we thought were long buried, lost in the flurry of car pools and breast pumps. The silly selves. The slightly reckless selves. The girls-still-know-how-to-have-fun selves.
I want my daughter see all these sides of me, to know I'm more than just a chauffeur/laundress/short-order cook who caters to her every whim. And my girlfriends bring me back to the old me, the whole me.
I want to be like the self-assured, confident little Ms. Thing in Sydney's book du jour:
"I like me wild.
I like me tame.
I like me different and the same.
Inside, outside, upside down
from head to toe and all around,
I like it all! It all is me!
And me is all I want to be."
From "I Like Myself" by Karen Beaumont