As I stand in our cozy kitchen, my husband is busy sautéing mushrooms while my three-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Mia, stands beside me with her fists clenched and her expression mirroring intense determination. I’m sharing my frustrations with her father about a recent experience—something that really upset me. Perhaps it was an overlooked detail in an email or a miscommunication during a busy day at the grocery store.
“Mommy! Mommy! If you don’t talk to me, I, I, I…” Her big brown eyes widen as she desperately searches for a consequence that matches her urgency. “If you don’t talk to me, I won’t be alive anymore!”
I look down at my spirited little girl, dressed in her “I Love New York” t-shirt and corduroys, realizing that this moment is crucial for her. It’s amusing how alike we are, despite the nearly four-decade age gap between us.
Wearing my evening attire of a nightgown at 5 p.m., I feel the weight of exhaustion. I just need a few minutes to finish my thought, then maybe a hot bath to soothe my ballet-class sore muscles, followed by a bit of writing, and a well-deserved hour to watch my favorite show.
I scoop up Mia, deciding it’s time to connect. “Did you know,” I start, “that parents are people too?”
Her eyes light up, completely engaged in what I’m saying. “Mommies are people, people with children.”
As I navigate my memory back to childhood, I recall the familiar tune of “Parents Are People” from the beloved album, Free to Be You and Me.
“When mommies were little, they used to be girls, like some of you, but then they grew.”
Suddenly, I’m transported back to my childhood room, surrounded by the vibrant colors of leotards and the scent of old textbooks. The nostalgic tunes flood my mind, reminding me of the music that shaped my youth—everything from A Chorus Line to The Princess Bride soundtrack, and, of course, Free to Be You and Me.
With a few clicks on iTunes, I pull up the album. As the music plays, Mia fits perfectly in my arms, snuggled against me as we sway to the melody of “Parents Are People.”
“Mommies are women, women with children, busy with children and things that they do. There are a lot of things a lot of mommies can do.”
As dusk settles over our New York City street, we stand by the window, singing and swaying. Outside, life bustles on—people rushing home, dogs darting across sidewalks, and teenagers laughing as they stroll. Dinner can wait; this moment is all that matters.
In echoes of the song, I remind her, “We don’t have to change at all.” She used to inquire about my tears during certain songs, but now she seems to understand. She knows there’s a magical realm where parents can be completely themselves while fully present with their children.
At nearly 40, I cherish these moments of connection with my little one, teaching her about boundaries and the importance of being true to oneself.
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Summary
In this heartfelt exploration, Emily Thornton shares a touching moment with her daughter, Mia, as they navigate the complexities of communication and boundaries. Inspired by the nostalgic album Free to Be You and Me, Emily reflects on her own childhood while imparting valuable lessons about the importance of individuality and connection between parents and children.