Yesterday was the first day of school. While the chaos of the morning did not resemble euphoria, after the last kids were on the school bus a certain sense of calm descended upon me. I found myself chatting enthusiastically with the neighbor, despite the frequent interruptions from my four-year-old as she struggled to entertain herself. Our voices were quiet and, maybe, even melodic to the untrained ear. When a mother and grandmother with preschoolers passed by, they commented that all the mothers in the neighborhood were certainly happy today. We smiled again. Yes, the bittersweet end of summer was replaced with the routine of school, happily.
Frankly, I had never stopped to notice the change in mothers with the start of school, but when I headed to the grocery store, Giant Eagle to be exact, I was amazed at how quiet it was. No, there were plenty of people shopping, but it was unusually quiet, and even more abnormally, I discovered that the carts were moving slower and paused to yield to other shoppers. I looked up and smiled, and a beautiful smile greeted me back. Before panicking that I was at the wrong store, I paused to evaluate the situation and saw I was looking into the eyes of another mother. Suddenly, I realized I was surrounded by women who were probably mothers just like me, but today they were shopping alone. Every smile I shared was returned, and in some instances, conversations even ensued! I was wearing my favorite, sparkly group therapy shirt featuring three glasses of wine—which also evoked conversation—“…excellent choice for the day!” Today we were family in the neighborhoods and grocery stores. Nerves were not frazzled by the whining voices of our darling children.
However, we are always mothers together…why is it we don’t reach out to each other unless we are alone. Are we fearful of judgment? Why don’t we quietly lend a frazzled mother with a tantruming toddler a helping hand instead of passing without making eye contact? In our hearts, we feel the pain. Or at least I hope we do. Or are we too quick to judge the situation as we ourselves feel judged by society to be the perfect parents? Why can we not be a village and join hands without criticism?
Perhaps my shirt with the different sizes, shapes, and colors of wine glasses could be a symbol of the day. Surely, we are as different as our children, but each mother brings something very special to her children. We need to put the sparkle back in our relationships with each other—and we can begin by sharing a smile.
