motherhood

July 29, 1980

 

July 29, 1980

Me with Chris (I only called him CD in my diaries) in 1980
Me with Chris (I only called him CD in my diaries) in 1980

John and I were the first to get married and have children in our group of friends – consequently, Chris grew up surrounded by adults. It’s not surprising that he identified early with grown-ups; the last thing he wanted to be was just another child.  When he was around other children, as in the school situation described above, he wanted to assume an adult role. Helping me enforce order on the other children running down the mountain was a perfect outlet.

Once, when he was still under ten, a friend attempted to seat him at the children’s table with his brother and sister and younger cousins.

Not A Child! he said.

He was, to me, like I suspect all children are to their mothers, the most adorable and intelligent little boy / young adult in the world.

CD (Chris) in 1980
CD (Chris) in 1980
Another picture of CD in 1980
Another picture of CD in 1980

 

July 27, 1977

 

July 27, 1977

Looking for my calling
Looking for my calling

This was a transitional time in our lives. John had finished his last year of law school but wouldn’t know when or if he’d be licensed to practice until after the bar results. When we married, I was working for Len Hill at NBC. I quit to take a job at USC that gave both John and me a break on tuition. I quit that job for more time to write and immediately got pregnant.

New Mom
New Mom

Christopher was seven months old at the time of this entry. John and I shared a car, which he drove to USC and work, so I was marooned in the Hillside Strangler’s killing fields (bodies were piling up in circumference around us).

70's Fashion
70’s Fashion

I had no idea whether or not I’d succeed as a writer. My identity was in flux. When I look back at photos taken then, I hardly recognize myself. I’m dressed like I thought a new mother or future Jr. Leaguer should dress. (On the other hand, 70s fashion didn’t do me any favors.)

New Mom and Dad and Son
New Mom and Dad and Son

The part of my psyche that never changed – my constant – remains in my worry about the impression I made on Gailya.  From the time I started writing in diaries (age 12), whenever I spent any time with a friend, I second-guessed my performance in my diary – “I’m sure I bored her” was my most common review. Maybe everybody critiques their social interactions and inventories their mistakes. Even if true, I suspect most people grow out of it.

Am I any better now, 40 years later? Maybe a little. Not enough.