It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

In my pre-child, professional days, I wore many hats. Mostly I was a teacher, administrator, event planner, and database developer. I used to get paid to make managerial decisions, make order out of information chaos, educate people, and plan events. Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t that what I’m still doing, except without the check and reason to buy myself beautiful shoes? Aren’t we ALL?

From the time Eve was only months old, every chance I could, I’d take her outside in crashing thunderstorms. Even if we just stood under the doorway of our first house, there we’d be. We'd duck raindrops and watch the lightning. It’s true, I kind of love thunderstorms. Also, I’m a teacher at heart and somehow that seemed like the only way to teach Eve not to fear the enormous sound that must have seemed to come out of nowhere to her. I admit I loved standing there holding her and watching the stunning array of reactions she’d have. Fear, bewilderment, curiosity, a little bit of glee. After a while, delight. Just like me.

Ironically I didn't realize at the time, that I had taught her something else. Once we were visiting friends and it just so happened there was a thunderstorm. There were other little ones. They were cowering in fear, but not Eve. She was busily making her way to the door. It seems I had inadvertently taught her to run outside with glee whenever a storm came. My very own Pavlov's weather vane.

It took a while to sort that out. When she got a little older somehow Eve discovered the idea that perhaps you’re supposed to be afraid of the dark. What? Oh no. Not on my watch. What did I do? We spent hours together playing with glow sticks in my pitch black, closed, closet. I figured I could unwind the fear of the dark. So far it's worked. I’m still glad no one just dropped by during any of those hours. Can you imagine? Some days, I'm stunned and overwhelmed by the enormity of the job which is motherhood, but like opening your eyes to the weather, it will usually present something amazing. Today she told me my name was SuperMama. I think today, I win. Even if I never have a reason for those amazing business-person shoes again, it’s nice to know my skills aren’t as obsolete as I thought.

What about you? How are you using your pre-children skills these days?