Mother Scrooge

by Cathy

Last Tuesday night, I received a visit from the Ghost of Motherhood Future.

I had my calendar laid out in front of me on our living room coffee table, along with papers from my kids' school and the calendar app opened on my phone, trying to note and synchronize all of the upcoming events. Halloween parties. Parent cocktail parties. Gift wrap sale for school fundraiser. Donations for class funds. Picture day. Volleyball games. Bagel and juice sale. Nutcracker (yes, Nutcracker) rehearsals.

"Are we gonna watch this or what?" my husband nudged, pointing to one of the dozens of DVR'd shows we have recorded. "Yeah, wait," I said all frazzled. "Let me just figure this out..." I rambled off. "Don't forget on the 29th I have to do pumpkin carving in Ari's class so..." Suddenly my cell phone rang. Joe and I both looked at each other. Something was wrong. It was 10:30 at night. This can't be good.

On the other end of the line was my equally frazzled cousin, K. "Hey, I'm in a bit of a bind."

A little history on K: After living out in the boonies of Lake County her whole life, she is finally a city girl. She's been living in Chicago for about a month now since being accepted at one of the best universities in the city, and she is still adjusting to learning the public transit system. Joe and I, being city folk born and raised and proud adoptive city parents to K as we take her under our wing and make her 'city savvy'," told her that if she ever needed anything, she could call us, no matter what.

As soon as I heard her comment, I froze. My motherly mind was spinning. I imagined everything from her being at some party that got busted and her getting arrested, to God knows what else. I quickly tried to clear my mind to focus. "I'm kinda stuck here at school," she continued. "I've been waiting for the bus for the last 40 minutes and it hasn't come. I don't think it runs this late."

After a quick exchange between K, Joe and myself, we decided to have her hop on the nearby train and Joe would meet her at the stop and drive her home, as none of the buses on her home route were running at this hour. I've never seen Joe get ready as fast as he did that night. He was out the door in three minutes flat. I kept in contact with K to make sure she was on the train, heading in the right direction and giving her Joe's cell number. All the while I paced in my living room with a scene from the DVR'd show  still frozen on the TV screen. Finally, a text from K to let me know she is home safe.

This whole scenario lurched me ten years into the future that night. We've all heard the old adage, "The bigger your kids, the bigger your problems." We think we got problems now? That call could have been something way worse. So this is what it will feel like to have teenage daughters. This is how it will feel every time my cell phone will ring late at night. This is how it will feel to worry and pace until you know they are safe.

I went into my girls' bedroom and kissed them each goodnight, tucking them even more securely into their pink, frilly covers. Then I sat down and happily kept scheduling my pumpkin carving activites, ballet lessons and the hundreds of other now easy events I faced as a mother. 

Mothers, no matter what stage of motherhood they are in, are constantly visited by the Ghost of Motherhood Present: what's going on now and how to handle those transitions. When we're visited by the Ghost of Motherhood Past, we reminisce, laugh, cry, long and relate.

But that Ghost of Motherhood Future? That is one scary Mother.