Manifesto for free-spirited mothers
We, free spirited mothers, advocate the right:
to love our little ones completely and utterly, and to always want to have another baby,
to hate life between 6:50 am and 8:15 am on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. The reason being the rotten race against the clock: the alarm, the hairbrushes that go into hiding, the burnt toast, the breakfast stains, the traffic jams, the school bell ringing and the punctual, relaxed parents chit chatting outside the school gates,
to love it when our little rascals slide under the sheets on a Sunday morning, even if it is early, far too early,
to find a moment of peace in each day. To read books without pictures, to chat for hours on the phone, to drink champagne in the middle of the afternoon, to lose weight eating “pasta alla carbonara”,
to only follow our heart despite all the unwanted advice given by those who weren’t even asked,
to go into raptures, foolishly if need be, before our little ones exploits and their blossoming life,
to be unrecognizable after 3 sleepless nights and to think very, very bad thoughts,
to curse the teacher, and teachers everywhere, and all of the “Education Nationale”, and even as far as Charlemagne who shouldn’t have died if he wanted to defend this rotten idea of celebrating the 100th day of school with a collection of 100 thingy-ma-jigs and we, the poor exhausted mothers, who are up half the night before the big day, in tears and screams, as we finish off the collection of 100 origami. And all because our offspring’s idea was not quite brilliant enough?
to worship the teacher, and teachers everywhere, and all of the “Education Nationale” and this one of his kind; Charlemagne, who unfortunately is dead, for taking care of and educating our little wildlings,
to feel nostalgic about each passing day that snatches treasures from under our feet, never to be seen again,
to make the most of a long weekend, without children, and 100 percent with our man, and to go as far as saying “It’s great without them too”?
to hop up and down impatiently when it’s time to go home because three days without them is long, so long,
to do everything that you are not supposed to in order to have 30 minutes peace.
to dream about going away on a spa weekend, with them, with a friend, with our mother, with our mother-in-law, but just to go on a spa weekend at whatever cost,
to be all these women at the same time, and a loving, ever changing, flawed human being.
Translated from French into English by Emma Lespade
