AND THE PAINTED PONIES GO UP AND DOWN

My daughter, Cassie, turns 30 today. As much as that is certainly a milestone worthy of celebrating, I will also be celebrating my own milestone today. March 1, 1985 was the day that I first stepped onto the never-ending, always-spinning carousel of Motherhood. Thirty years! And what a long, strange trip it’s been.

Nothing can really prepare you for the ride. At times it slows down, like on those interminably long, rainy days when your kids need to be outside because there is only so much finger painting, coloring, dress-up and story time that you can pack into a gloomy, rain-soaked afternoon. Other times, it speeds up into warp speed, like on those family vacations when everyone is happy at the same time and each sunset brings you one day closer to the end of the best week at the beach you could have ever hoped for. Occasionally, it stands still and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for your teenager to return home, long past curfew, and you try to tell yourself that she couldn’t possibly end up like those girls whose bodies were found in that field just last week. But, most of the time, it keeps spinning at such a steady pace that you don’t even notice the movement, until Pomp and Circumstance strikes up and your graduate enters, happy to be moving on from pre-school/kindergarten/high school/college and you are left wondering how it all happened without you feeling the shift in time and space.

At first, the permanence of Motherhood can be daunting. You’ve always known that you could quit your job, change you hair color, even leave your husband. Not so with Motherhood. You may check-out, but you can never leave. As time goes on, you embrace the permanence. It gives you the time you need to learn the job. On-the-job training is terrifying at first but as you settle into the role, you realize that even if you make a mistake, and you will, you will still be a mother. You can’t be fired and you’ll never be outsourced. It gives you hope during those turbulent teen years when your child may not like you, but, hopefully, still loves you. Everyone tells you that the good times will come again. And they do.

And if you are really lucky, one day she will join you on the carousel, gently bumping you from the painted ponies to the grand carriages where the grandmothers sit, content to watch their families grow but always ready to bolt into action if needed. Because you’re never too old to need to be needed.

So as my daughter celebrates her birthday today, I’ll raise a glass to both of us. And once again ponder that age old question…. if I did all the work, why is she getting all the presents?

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About Carol Bryant

Hi. My name is Carol Bryant. I'm a transplanted New Yorker, living in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains. While it was skiing that initially drew me to Colorado, it's been the laid-back, outdoor lifestyle which has kept me here for nearly 30 years. I'm a writer, nurse, travel agent and mediocre tennis player. I began my writing career 20 years ago, writing essays and magazine articles. Recently, I completed my first manuscript and am currently seeking representation for this work. It's a memoir of my nursing career which spans two continents, forty years and some of the most intriguing characters who have ever entered a hospital. I’ve been told that if I ever hope to have my memoir published, I need to establish a platform – a following of readers who enjoy my writing. So, I am shamelessly asking for you to become part of that platform. I plan to blog on various topics that I find entertaining. If you are entertained, moved to cry or laugh out loud, then I have accomplished what I have set out to do. I feel as if I am taking that first, timid step out onto the frozen lake, hoping that the ice will hold me. It’s scary as hell but I’ll give it a go. After some of the things I have faced down in my 40 years of nursing, how bad can blogging be? It beats shaving scrotums.
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13 Responses to AND THE PAINTED PONIES GO UP AND DOWN

  1. Phil B says:

    That line from Hotel California says it all, with an emphasis on “never”. Well written.

    Like

  2. elena ellcessor says:

    Hey Carol,
    That’s a sweet tribute to motherhood.. thanks for sharing. Your reference to Hotel California is funny, “you can check in, but you can never leave.” However, I met someone just yesterday who’s child was deserted by his mother (being raised by grandparents)… so as foreign as that sounds to us, not all women are up to the task. Baring extreme circumstances, yes motherhood is for a lifetime. I just talked to my mother this morning… who’s 85!

    Like

  3. Geri johnson says:

    Loved it Carol, brought tears to my eyes!

    Like

  4. Cassie says:

    Awww Mom!! I’m crying over here. That was wonderful. And I’m so glad to have you on the carousel carriage with me. Happy my-birthday to you! I love you!

    Like

  5. Frances says:

    “never-ending, always-spinning carousel”. Not just that, but the whole essay. You have such a Gift with words! Love reading your posts. Thank you!

    Like

  6. Diane Huling says:

    Another GREAT post! It’s so nice to find someone to articulate all those feelings and observations. And the last sentence is worth its weight in gold!

    Like

  7. Virginia Smith says:

    A big smile and a little tear reading this today. Life’s an amazing journey.

    Like

  8. Peter says:

    Carol, Thank you for so poignantly encapsulating the Circle Game, and how as parents we are captive on the carousel of time. And Happy Birthday to Cassie!

    Liked by 1 person

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