Today, by mom, brother, Petit Joel and I sat in a café and I saw a framed picture of this African proverb: “It takes a village to raise a child” and it made us all think about it. I could not really connect with this phrase. I asked my mom, “Do they really mean a village? Is a village really necessary?”
I remember when I was pregnant with Petit Joel, I was so worried about doing everything “right”. Does breastfeeding work? Do I need to cloth-diaper instead of using regular ones? Will I ever sleep again through the night? And this thought that I just gave birth to this little human being overwhelmed me. Doctors and nurses helped me in the beginning. So, it takes a village, eh?
While we drank our coffees and ate our cakes we thought about how important this “village” actually is or how important this role of others becomes when raising a child. Integrating and including my family after the birth was very helpful and I have to thank my parents again and again that they were/are 100% behind me throughout all these years. Germany and my parents home is the place where Petit Joel grew up and enjoyed the first 2 1/2 years of his life. But imagine a village? I had friends, too. Real friends who experienced the same sleepless nights, the same pregnancy nightmares and the same struggles a mother faces – especially in the beginning of this never-ending job being a mom. Friends who shared tears and laughter throughout it all. As time went on, I realized how great this support is. The human interaction because as mothers, we are in this together. [On a side note: I heard somebody say today (a man), that he needs some time for himself after being with his 4 year-old son all week long. He said he is exhausted. Duh! Welcome to the mother-world, my friend! This is what we deal with all the time, sometimes secretly asking for some time off wiping away a tear or two!!]
When I found some mom-friends in Germany I moved. And moved again. I had to find new ones, which turns out to be quite difficult for me. Remember Milo’s mom? Since Joel is in Kindergarten, I am in touch with other mothers constantly. I am indeed open for anything new. We talk, we joke, but there are these certain type of mom’s and I just think, “Yep, this is her. She is the one. I want to hang out with her for sure!” The one who understands you and your feelings, when your three year-old throws tantrums, tries to hit you at the toy store because you told him it is time to go home. The one who comes over with a bottle of wine, some cheese and you talk for hours and create a safe child-free zone for a couple of hours. This mom, who still knows other things to talk about than diapers and children. Books for example. Or a great movie. But I am also good on my own. I take Petit Joel to the library, to the theater or endless walks downtown. But with this one mom I met, things opened up. Together, we met other mom’s who are like us and suddenly we had a little group. These moms who figure out this “raising-a-child-thing” together and succeeding more or less one day at a time. These conversations, playdates, coffee shop visits and walks in the park are exactly what I need. We all agree that the drunk dinosaur-lady from the playground is the best entertainment for any child’s birthday party. We all have her business card!
Is this my village? The woman at the bakery who teaches him to say “Thank you” after he receives a cookie because he forgot to say it? The mailman who shows him where he keeps all the mail in the truck, while the garbage truck driver explains how they empty the garbage cans? Petit Joel smiles, he listens, he learns.
But what I love the most is my family and to have them close by these days – my parents and grandparents. To see my brother or sister play with Petit Joel, teach him soccer for hours or show him how to draw a scary dragon. My grandparents come over and teach Petit Joel how the game “memory” works. He learns, he listens. I know I have my family to lean on. This feeling that I can go out at night with a friend and leave Petit Joel with my parents without ever having the feeling that I owe them something in return or that I need to worry. We are family. This is what you do for each other. We stand behind each other no matter what. These people lift me up when I am down, too and I would do the same for them. Having a “support-team” is important because it is tough doing it all on your own. I don’t think anybody really can.
While I am typing all this, I am sitting in my parent’s kitchen with my brother – both sharing a box of tissues, tons of nose spray while fighting these cold-germs hard in a sneezing competition. Earlier, my mom took Petit Joel to bed and he is peacefully asleep. This is my village. This is my family. My base.
