Every Once in a While I need a reminder

My Previous Life - Gayle Sorensen Stringer

In my previous life, before I was reincarnated as a mother of three, I woreclothes that fit and matched. I wore makeup and curled my hair every day.I had my eyebrows waxed and my nails done. But no one gave me grahamcracker kisses. No one ever told me how pretty I look in sweats.In my previous life, I read Time magazine and the newspaper. My reparteeof regular television viewing transcended Arthur and The Magic School Bus,and I devoured all the bestselling novels. But no one asked me to read TheVelveteen Rabbit at bedtime. No one ever requested The Little Engine thatCould.In my previous life, I had a career and friends who were more than threefeet tall. People asked for my opinions and entrusted me with importantprojects and confidential information. I had conversations where not oncewas mentioned snacks or potties or play dates. But no one asked me myfavorite color or why the sky is so blue. No one ever wanted me to sing.In my previous life, I had a life. I frequented aerobics classes,restaurants and the theater. I hosted parties where the themes had nothingto do with Star Wars or Winnie-the-Pooh. I shopped for myself and sleptlate on weekends. But no one made me Valentine cards. No one ever gave medandelion bouquets.In my previous life, I traveled, and my destinations did not hinge on themeparks or swimming pools or nap schedules. The Mayan ruins of the Yucatan,snorkeling in the Caribbean, museum hopping in Italy, Kabuki Theater inJapan . . . these were my playgrounds. I was the queen of the road and mydestiny. But no one asked me to push the swing higher. No one everinvited me to splash in puddles or roll in the snow.In my previous life, I held my emotions in check. I did not stomp my feetor grit my teeth. I could not easily be diminished to tears or tirades. Iconsidered my demeanor as laid-back and easygoing. But, no one made mecare enough to cry. No one ever just loved me, anyway.In my previous life, I was free. I could carve my own path and follow mydreams. Nothing stood in my way. But the path was unsure and the visionblurred. No one ever gave me purpose enough to soar. Now, I endlesslyrearrange piles of laundry, crumbs and toys. I am pulled and tugged,hassled and harassed, stepped on and sat upon, and desperate for somesolitude. I am jean-clad and juice-stained, bleary-eyed and graying,underpaid and overwhelmed. And, sometimes I wonder who I am and what I'vebecome. Then, one of my children shouts, "Mommy, I need you!" and it isperfectly clear.I am the center of the Universe. I am M0M.