An Expectant Mother's Dreams

As an expectant-mother, I used to daydream about experiences I wanted to share with my son at various times of his life.  I planned out his first Halloween in great detail, down to the cowboy and spider costume changes, spooky front-porch decorations while we handed out candy, even background music.  None of it went according to plan.  The reality was that he (being only 2 months old) slept through his entire “first Halloween” experience. 

While pregnant, I dreamed about his first day of preschool, envisioning myself crying while holding a linen handkerchief that I’d then preserve in my son’s memory book, while my precious 2-year-old smiled happily and waved cheerfully while looking back (ever so slightly) as he skipped into the class holding his teacher’s hand.  Again, none of that went according to plan.   The reality was that my son screamed in the car all the way to school, proceeded to hold onto his car seat and scream at the top of his lungs when I tried to take him inside, and then cried so hard when I tried to leave, that the teacher asked me to stay for a couple of hours…which continued for the next 5 weeks!  (My only happy memory of these agonizing morning drop-off times is the friend who sent me an email during those weeks and said, “I’d cry too if I had to be away from you for so long!”  Very sweet and never forgotten.)

While pregnant, I dreamed about my son’s first visit with Santa.  I’ve tried every year since he was two….and I will try again this year now that he’s six.  We get a bit closer to the actual Santa each year.  When he was two, he stayed in his stroller on the second floor of the mall, looking down at Santa’s Enchanted Village on the first floor.  When he was three, we actually made it to the first floor, but were still inside the glass elevator.  When he was four, he stood at the back of the Santa line, until a baby started crying and he got spooked.  Last year, five-years-old, we were fortunate enough to happen upon a Santa where there was no line!  My son watched his two other friends happily pose for photos and give their lists to the jolly old man in red.  Son took the whole scene in, studying everything so carefully that I could almost read his mind.  But, when it came time for his turn, he wasn’t having any part of it.  He sprinted out of there so fast that for a moment I thought I had given birth to the next Carl Lewis.   I think this year may be my last attempt.  I’m willing to use cold, hard cash as bribery.   (I’m running out of Santa time, if you know what I mean.)

While pregnant, I dreamed of taking my son to New York City.  It’s always been one of my favorite places.  The sights of people hurrying about, the sounds of the cars and the subway, the smell of slightly burnt street food…I love it!   Every season of the year, my old favorite places, trying someplace new….I love it!   The theater, the dining, the culture….I love it!  New York will always have a piece of my heart and I’ve been waiting to share it with my son.    And, now, it is finally time.  Tomorrow is the day!  Taking Son to NYC for 4 days and some memorable experiences.  He has new clothes for the trip that I have carefully planned out.  We have dinner reservations where Son can enjoy his favorite foods, while foodie Husband and I don’t have to miss out on our NYC fine dining.  We’ve got tickets and excursions planned that would make any first-timer jealous.    And, we’re staying in one of my favorite hotels in a great room with an even better view!

Now, you might ask: based on the way I’ve “dreamed” in the past, am I nervous that this very-carefully-planned-out trip might not go exactly according to plan?   I’m not worried at all.   I KNOW that it won’t go according to plan!   And, the good news is that I don’t care!

If I’ve learned anything in the last six years of parenting, it is to identify the one really important aspect of the “dream” and hold onto it.  It’s going to be a great trip, full of surprises and excitement.   And I know that the most important part will happen at exactly the right time.  It may be in the middle of Central Park (when my husband refuses to do the carriage ride), or at the top of Rockefeller Center (when my son refuses to pose for a photo), or in the back of a taxi stuck in traffic (and also smelling like cigarette smoke mixed with sauerkraut) but it WILL happen.   And it will look something like this moment from my pregnant-dream of long ago: 

Son will have a look of absolute-wonder-and-enchantment on his sweet face (with perfectly combed hair and no leftover lunch on his face).  He’ll look at me with wide-eyes and say, “Mom, this is the greatest city in the world.”  And he’ll absolutely mean it.  And my heart will melt.

And, that makes me smile.