Here’s to making new plans

Remember when you were young and everything seemed possible? When I ask the kids what they would like to be when they grow up, none of their dreams seem ludicrous or out of reach. Pro gamer? Yes! Vet who specialises in treating frogs and lizards and turtles? Oddly specific, but sure! Firefighter? Nice! Comic book writer? Go for it! Artist? Great choice! (*5 points for anyone who can match the answers to the right kids!)

But then time goes by and with every decision we make in life, we start eliminating options from the realm of possibility. Choose a major in humanities over triple science – strike being a surgeon off the list. Discover that you detest running – guess it’s a no to being an olympic athlete. Then you get old enough and suddenly realise that you’re left with…not that many options.

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In my early 20s, I had an idea of how my life was going to turn out. I had the bucket list of a young, idealistic Singaporean girl – find a man I love, find a job I love, have kids (somehow, I assumed they’d fit in with all my other plans), travel, try new experiences, love deeply, feel a lot, find my place in this world and do something significant. I wasn’t sure what that last part would look like, but I was 20 and anything seemed possible.

I soon discovered that having kids at 26 and becoming a stay home mom threw a wrench into all my other plans. Babies seemed to demand so much that everything else got pushed to the edges, to contend for whatever was leftover, which wasn’t much.

“They’re only little for such a short time,” I told myself, as I put on hold my dreams and job and other grand plans to cuddle babies and fix snacks and kiss away sad toddler tears. Then there were more kids and the years rolled on. More cuddles and snacks and kisses and homework and exams and 听写. Sometimes it feels like being a mom contains so much that being anything else becomes an afterthought. Just like that, it was 11 years of being 90% mom + 10% everything else.

I try to fit in the other parts of myself into the leftovers like a complicated game of Tetris: writing a little here and there, getting some work in during the saner moments of my day, dreaming up plans for projects I don’t have the time for.

Some days, I would scroll through the shiny instagram feeds of friends who were doing all the things I always thought I’d do. I watched them chase their dreams and land killer jobs as I chased down toddlers in poopy diapers. As they jetted off on exotic Arctic adventures, I was getting good at landing a plane of pureed broccoli in my baby’s mouth. While they were wearing yoga pants to yoga and zumba and crossfit, I was wearing yoga pants to do non-exercise type things like going to NTUC and for no other reason except that they were comfortable. I clicked on little hearts on their feeds, living vicariously through their experiences, sometimes imagining that I’d do those same things in a different life.

Being physically present to watch my kids taste their first mouthful of applesauce and take their first step and wake up from a nap needing a hug from mom is a special kind of privilege, and in some ways, is everything that I always wanted. They make me happier than I ever thought possible.

And now that the kids are bigger and need me less than they used to, I find myself in a strange position. I suddenly have more time to be some of the other things that got pushed to the edges. Instead of being all mom all the time, I get to be a wife, spending a week having the husband all to myself in Tokyo. I get to be a friend and reconnect with old friends whose company I’ve missed. I get to be a person who has time for myself at the gym. I get to discover new skills and try new experiences that aren’t just about kids.

I’d like to think that my best work is still ahead of me. It’s still out there and some day soon, I’ll figure out a way to get it done.

It may be too late to get back to the plans I had when I was 20 but at 37 and done with the most demanding mom years, maybe its time to make some new plans.