Last night I was catching up on a bazillion hours of Olympic coverage and caught the story of French skier, Ophelie David. For me, the Olympics is largely about the stories. In other words, I cheer for whomever NBC tells me I’m supposed to cheer for, with their Hallmark-esque montages.
Oh, yeah, and the Americans.
Ophelie David is a 6 time world champion in ski cross. She’s been ranked number 1 in the world since 2004 and is 33 years old.
She is also the mother of a 10 year old.
As we get nearer to our wedding, and I look at what it means to be a wife, I’ve also started to think about what it means to be a mother. If the world at large tells us that wives are supposed to be controlling harridans, that husbands are purse carrying victims, what does it say about mothers?
Here are some words often associated with Mother: loving, selfless, caretaker, nurturing.
Here is one that’s not: Olympian*.
I’ve been walking around this idea of being a mother for a while now. I’m 32. Some would say it’s well past time, but when I think of what is expected of me and what I may lose, it’s not an easy answer.
One of my biggest fears, when approaching marriage, was that the world at large would no longer allow me to define myself. Though I wonder, at times, if it ever really had. Let’s be honest. It all comes back to mothers and daugthers. We are someone’s daughter and then someone’s wife. And then, either our husbands are rebellious adolecents and we, their over bearing mothers or they are stoic providers and we, their poor, helpless daugthers.
I bristle under the stereotypes, yet I understand the need to place people in tidy boxes. It is work to get to know someone. To allow them faults. To recognize their individuality.
I am afraid of losing myself.
I know I will lose a part of my old self when I marry the boy. No longer can I pick up at a moments notice and jet off to far flung cities to visit friends. If I blow my paycheck on books or shoes or the Marc Jacobs bag I’ve been lusting over, it will mean putting less money towards our shared goals.
Likewise, I know I will lose a part of my old self when (and if) I become a mother. But what? And how much? Will it limit what I can accomplish? Will it be the sole thing that defines me?
These were the thoughts running through my head while I watched Ophelie David.
A reporter asked her how she balances the two, mother, Olympian and she resonded:
At home, I am a mother. Here, I am a competitor.
Simple as that.
My heart broke a little when she crashed. And then I thought, how badass was that?!! Every little girl should be lucky enough to have a role model that shows you that you can be badass as you want to be.
Eff anyone who tells you differently.
*At least not in the present tense.
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