Monday, January 25, 2010

I Was a Mom Before I Was a Mom

Sometimes I think I was always a mom. With the exception of a brief six-month foray into the realm of "I'm not going to have any kids because then I won't be tied down" when I was twenty, after which I panicked and realized that wasn't me, I've always known I wanted kids. Long before I had kids, I would take mental notes of things I wanted to do with my kids, buy little cute things "for when I have kids," and just sort of mentally prepare for those future days.

In 2001, a friend introduced me to The Jayhawks. I listened to Tomorrow the Green Grass from beginning to end, and when I got to song thirteen, "Ten Little Kids," I stopped in my tracks. Before I was halfway through the first listen, I was thinking to myself "when I have kids, I will play them this song--and they will love it." This was at a time when there was nary a kid in sight, four and a half years before I got pregnant with my oldest.

And guess what we did just a few days ago? We spent the day listening to "Ten Little Kids," on repeat, which is Ninna's request for any song she connects with. The first time I played it for her, when it reached the chorus, her eyes widened and she grinned from ear to ear as if she couldn't believe there existed such a song. She danced around for awhile and then retreated into the quiet pillow corner to just listen for half an hour.

I always think this is one of those songs that means different things at different times. Ninna, at three and a half, will think of it differently than she will when she's ten or fifteen. And I now, as a mom of two young girls, see this song differently than I did as an innocent twenty-five year old. And I think I love it now even more than I did then.

This post is part of Steady Mom's "30-Minute Blog Challenge"

9 comments:

Kim & Dave said...

I know what you mean. One of my daughters drinks out of a mug I got with cute little teddy bears on it. I was about 7 years from getting married & at least 10 years before I had kids when that mug caught my eye!

Leslie said...

I think I was always a mom, too, before I was a mom - I know what you mean! I'm interested in what this song is, I'd like to hear it!

taylorgirl6 said...

I'm still a long distance from being a mom. Reading this made me feel a bit better about the silly things I do to prep for when the little ones will be here. I try to restrain myself, but the tiny clothes at the OshKosk B'Gosh store pull me in. I stare at the monster-sized diaper packs at Costco. I've already designed a mural to paint in the nursery, though it's still an office (which I am sitting in this very moment). Am I crazy? Or was I born to be a mama?

jenniferdube3 said...

Wow, this kind of gave me goosebumps! That's so beautiful. I love when we get these intuitions about how things will be. Jen from inspiremam.com

se7en said...

Great 30 minute post, I enjoyed a little wander through your blog, reading about your chicks! Have a nice day!!!

Nina said...

I've always wanted to be a mom! :) how do you say your daughter's name? mine is Nina (nee na). thanks for your comment on my blog. I've been single since well - forever, my son's father has too many problems - depression and alcoholism to name a few - and I'd rather be alone than wish I was. I always say I'll only marry (or be with) the person I want my sons to grow up to be and my daughters to grow up to marry. haven't met that person yet.

Susan said...

Really beautiful way to express those feelings and I can relate. I love when my little person connects with a song with joy and delight (and so glad for "repeat" on the ipod). One of the first ones to catch her up was "My Favorite Things" which was special to me because I remember singing showtunes with my Mom so it felt like connecting with the nana she won't know too.

Jaimie said...

Thanks, everyone! I really appreciate all the comments. I enjoyed writing this post and was glad to verbally express what I had always felt. I love hearing that others felt the same way.

Kelly said...

I loved this. It never fails to bowl me over when my kids fall in love with something that I once fell in love with -- especially when I'd forgotten that thing or had lost that little glint of special that made it stand out to me. It's like seeing with a whole new set of eyes (or hearing with a new set of ears).