I want to go on the record that I am a loving parent. I would never wish that I hadn't become a mother to my three (at least not lately). It's not all rainbows and unicorns as anyone dedicated to any endeavor will easily share. But I think all in all, for me, having kids has been a worthwhile pursuit (especially if you have the means to feed them, educate them, clothe them and shelter them from harm and have the emotional stamina to endure the often repetitive and maddening nuttiness of tending to their needs). If you don't have kids, then you probably either wanted them and couldn't or never felt the urge, and whatever events that transpired, it's all good to me. A woman is certainly more complicated than her ability to reproduce, and face it, parenthood is not for everyone.
So, I am in the later chapters in this journey of raising kids. Two of them are driving, one is almost done with college. It's not about making sure they drink their milk, or do their homework (although I can inquire- usually without ever ascertaining the exact truth) and many times when they leave the house it's not really clear what they are up to when they walk out the door. So, I am freer all the time to work, to contribute to the family's bottom line and pursue my destiny, sans folding tiny clothes and making sure they still fit in to their shoes.
Yet I love a lot of things about home life, especially the garden and all the events that transpire out of doors. Watching flowers unfold and bloom is its own kind of magic. And while my children's changing bodies and faces are a mystery as well, observing them, except in very discreet ways is completely off limits. So, I embrace the garden. The flowers that "pose" at all times of day and share their beauty without complaining- something I appreciate more and more, knowing how fleeting life can be.
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