I’ve been up since 5 a.m. and I don’t have kids. Why am I up at 5 a.m. if I don’t have kids?

Good question.

Lately, I’ve been crawling out of my bed, late, after having gone out for a couple more drinks than maybe others drink on weeknights. Red wine’s good for you, or at least over on this side of the world it is.

Typical evening: Eat dinner around 10 p.m. could be anything from a salad at home, tapas down the street, Spanish food cooked by roommate, Belgium food cooked by friend, e.t.c. After dinner meet people out for drinks. Drink wine till 2 – 3 in the morning. Come home. Sleep.

Typical morning: Wake up around 10 a.m. Walk downstairs. I have an attic room, or as some may call it, “a cave.” I put on the coffee. Wait for the French press to do its thing. Then I move the French press to the other burner. I pour my milk into a pot and put it on the warm burner. Stick my finger in. And when it’s ready, I pour it into my big red and white mug that says, “happy break” on it. Then I pour in the coffee.  I normally use sacarina for my sugar substitute but I’ve not bought a new one in over two weeks. I’m rebelling.

I’m rebelling against making my way down the five flights of stairs in my apartment building, passing the apartment of the famous Spanish feminist whose door is always open and where I can see in at the artwork, and saying hi to her brother coming out. He always wears a small leather man purse and he shuffles. I watch him. And every day he steps out of the building and goes two establishments down to a bar. I’m rebelling against exiting my building on a beautiful day in Madrid and going left to grab some sacarina. I’m rebelling and making myself miserable because I don’t like sugar but I’m using it in my coffee anyway. Why, because my roommate’s mother threw out my newly purchased box of sacarina, without asking. Of course I wasn’t going to get angry with my roommate’s mother and scream at her for throwing out my perfectly fresh box of sacarina – but what gave her the right to think she could. This might sound strange – but mother’s of people my age, scare me.

When a mother comes to visit...

It’s been two weeks of living without my sacarina, razor, shampoo, and lettuce. Two weeks of not cleaning, washing my clothes, and cooking. Why, because my roommate’s mother. She decided to throw out my sacarina, razor, shampoo, and use my lettuce. She cleaned the apartment daily, washed my clothes, and cooked. So I woke up this morning at 5 a.m. to finally get my life back to how it was before my roommate’s family came to visit.   

For some reason when a mother comes to visit everything changes. All of a sudden the normal life one leads disappears and it’s back to being treated like a child. Does this ever go away? Are we always seen as children in any mother's eyes? And why is it so easy to fall back into being one when they are around?

Can a mother ever let go?

This got me thinking about my sister and little Margaloo. My sister is now a mother, which means from now on she will take care of Miss Margo for the rest of her life. When Margo is about 30 and living on her own, my sister will visit and most likely do all the motherly things she did when Margo was nine. Now, of course I’m just hypothesizing here. It’s totally possible that my sister won’t be like this, but from what I’ve seen, every mother has a hard time letting go. And most sons and daughters have a hard time telling them to let go.

In comes the aunt. Luckily, with Margo –I’m not going to annoy her by telling her how to arrange her kitchen, or throw out her razors from the shower because I don’t think they look clean. And, since right now I don’t have children, I’m not in the position of making my child or anyone else’s feel like a child. I’ll never have to let go.

I started to think about my mother, grandmother, great grandmother, and on and on. What happens to a mother after her child is no longer a child? What does she become to her child? I will always be the aunt. My sister will always be the mother. But my role along the way won’t change; from the beginning to the end the way I care for Margo or interact with her will always remain the same. But the relationship between my sister and Margo is going to change. Okay, crazy, right, that I’m thinking about this now and Margo is only a wee little thing? But, suddenly, I felt sad for mothers out there. It’s horrible, isn’t it?

Are we always children?

After my roommate's parents left, she talked on the phone with her aunt and her grandmother. All she did was talk about how crazy her mother had made her the whole time she was here, and on and on. All the sudden I started to think about how difficult mother / child relationships are and it made me happy to know that I am not there yet. Is that bad? I started thinking how great it was that I’m not yet a mom. The fights between my roommate and her mother were loud, and caused so much stress for everyone. After they left, I was happy they were gone. I was happy because my roommate went back to being herself, and no longer the child her mother made her out to be. And once they left, I also stopped being a “child.” I washed my own clothes, made my own food, and I walked down my five flights of stairs and outside to buy sacarina.

For the first time in my life I felt sad thinking about what mothers must go through with their children. All the different phases of their life they have to get through, and how difficult it must be to let it all go. And it made me happy that at this point in my life it's not something I have to worry about.