Wasn't Jesus the original hippie? With his sandals, dress and kind, compassionate, tender, joyful nature? What a loaded word that is! I am oftentimes called a hippie – in some ways, I am, some not. I am an Older Mom with Young Kids and Older Kids, Four in All – Remarried, Striving to make a Step Family with Love and God's help.
From Lisajobaker.com – Five Minute Friday – 5 Minute Writing on a Prompt … ‘Belong’
Georgia (my 15 month old) and I are on the beach alone.
Next to me, there is a mother with her baby. She sits underneath an umbrella while an older lady and two men attempt to put together the beach tent.
I have the same beach tent, and I am wrestling with it as well. I watch them for pointers, but when they cannot figure it out, I give up as well.
I tramp back up the long stairway to the car with Georgia on my hip to get the beach umbrella.
On the way, I joke with the lady with the baby that no way will I be able to put my tent together if the three of them cannot.
Another woman close by is throwing a ball to a 3 year old. Two other children are in the water playing. Ice chests and other beach paraphernalia abound.
She tells me she is here from Augusta, Georgia visiting their in-laws.
I have spent the better part of my life trying to be her.
And I am not.
I am the one on the beach with a 15 month old by myself. It is not supposed to be that way.
Life, especially with young children, is easier when you belong to a troop. You have breaks. You have more than two hands to do things.
My mother says I romanticize.
‘Relatives are like fish,’ she says, ‘they go bad after three days.’
I am 43. I will never be that lady on the beach surrounded by a helping family.
The grandfather holds the baby while others pack up. There is something so soothing about the juxtaposition of young and old. It just feels right – interlocking pieces of a puzzle.
Maybe someday I will be the Grandmother.
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