I was a very young mom when I had my first child, just seventeen. Teen pregnancy was something whispered about in 1989, but I noticed the stares. Because of those stares I wanted to make sure I did everything right. I wanted to have the perfect kids so that people would see that a young mom could succeed.
If I could go back and do things differently I would relax more. I wanted my son to be the smartest at preschool. In t-ball I wanted him to be the best player. He was pretty smart and could beat me at Memory by age three, but as for sports … well, he was more interested in staring at the clouds than catching a ball.
I wanted to be seen as the perfect mom, too. I kept my house spotless.
I started writing and publishing and tried to become a success. By this time I lived 2,000 miles from those who knew me as a teen mom, but that didn’t stop me from striving. I didn’t going to enough nature walks or play catch too often because I was too busy keeping my world in order.
What I know now is my world will never be perfect. My to-do list will never be done. My son has grown and is expecting a baby of his own with his wife. He’s not perfect. I’m not perfect, and perhaps some of our favorite memories are from when we forgot there was a world out there we were trying to impress … and just enjoyed being together– laughing, loving, and enjoying life.