My parents were groovy. And awesome.



Bob and Jan

 Last week at the library, an acquaintance of mine mentioned a blog-turned-book, My Parents Were Awesome, full of essays from adult children about their parents before they were born.

Here’s an excerpt from the book overview: “They bathed you. They fed you. They raised you to become the person you are today. Your parents are an integral part of your story. But guess what? They have a story too—one that started long before you entered the picture. Before embarrassing fanny packs and Lite FM, there was a time when Mom and Dad were young and carefree—just like you. They were also fun and flirty, full of hope and desire and effortlessly cool.”

Personally, I was definitely never effortlessly cool in my whole life. But yes, of course, I did have likes and interests before my kids arrived. But what about now that life is often dominated with tasks and activities related to my children?

I think the snapshots of days gone by can serve as a reminder to hang on to something that is you, alone. Or yours, as a couple, pre-kiddos. Like to read? I heard there’s this cute book. Connect with friends or look to make some new ones. Just something, anything that reminds you that you are still in there and deserve your own time and needs. And if you’re not feeling like yourself due to postpartum depression or a related maternal mood issue and can’t think of a thing you enjoy, just know that you ARE still in there. With help you will feel like you again.

I know that I struggled with that very concept. I thought good moms only considered their children’s needs. In the throes of PPD, I believed it to be fact and could never do enough. Just do more, I would think. Then I’ll feel better. Now I know that’s not true. I have to care for me so I can care for them. Had I felt like I could think straight, I could have looked to my parents’ fine example. Yes, they had a life before me. But they also had a life outside of my care while I was around. They did their own fun stuff while every need of mine was attended to, and then some. They loved me and they loved each other – and still do. And they had their own individual interests – and still do. And now I can show my children that too.

So at the library, I went as plain old Tonya, bypassing educational, nonfiction, productive-type reading and went right for Harry Bosch. Just for fun. For me.