NotSheep

A few days ago, I pulled up at a red light beside a small car – the kind that always seems to be driven by teenage boys who’ve just received their licences. Unsurprisingly, it contained a couple of teenage boys and a couple of teenage girls. One of each gender in the front, the same in the back. The windows were down, the radio blaring.

I looked over and remembered my own teenage years. I’d have probably been doing just what they were on a sunny summer afternoon: hanging out with friends and/or boyfriends, driving around just for the sake of driving around, cruising along with nothing I had to do and nowhere I had to be.

I thought about my life as it was then and my life as it is now.

I’ve a body that’s older, creakier and definitely fatter. I’ve a schedule that’s based around other people’s needs and which doesn’t leave much time for just hanging out. I’ve a to-do list that never seems to get any shorter, no matter how many items I check off. My days are full of what I’m sure those teens would see as drudgery – what I sometimes see as drudgery. I can’t remember the last time I had an unbroken night’s sleep. My food choices are based on what will nourish my children and what my children will eat, rather than what appeals to me. My money is spent on kids’ trainers and household items rather than trendy clothes and nights out. I spend a fair amount of my time mediating squabbles and managing meltdowns and cleaning up and explaining that I wasn’t wearing your shoes so actually, no, I don’t know where you left them.

But I also get the company of five kids who are intelligent and interesting and funny and who I love more than I could ever have imagined in my wildest dreams. Every time I’m woken at night there’s a small warm body snuggling up to me. I get to place my cheek next to my baby’s cheek and feel my skin thrill to the touch of his. I get huge smiles that are just for me because I’m Mum. I get the joy of watching them develop, hearing their first words, watching their first steps, seeing them explore the world, listening to their first (usually awful) jokes. I get the hugs when they’re joyful or triumphant at having accomplished something. I get the satisfaction of feeling a tense little body relax in my arms as the anger or frustration or disappointment subsides. I get to teach them, and be taught by them.

I don’t imagine for a minute that any one of the teenagers in that car would look at me and wish for the life I have. But you know what? Given a choice between their lives and mine, I wouldn’t trade. Not for a day. Not for the world.

Never mind where I’m from. This is where I am. And it’s exactly where I want to be.