The difference is that a rock star is paid bazillions of dollars for his work. A parent, well…nothing. The only Rock in my life was rocking a crying child and the only Star was following the words, “Twinkle, Twinkle..”
How we classify success and happiness, however, is upside down. Do the ingredients of insane amounts of money, fame, and screaming fans make for a good life? I believe they do not, and most find these as transitory. I see the ruin that becomes most rock stars; I see their hardened faces and livers, their broken relationships and wonder why, why? do we promote fame as a desired lifestyle?
I’ve seen too many celebrities with children who can hardly stand the sight of their parents. I’ve read too many stories where rock stars and other famous people use family members for their own popular promotion, using them for their advantage. No, they can keep their mansions, reality TV shows, interviews on Entertainment News and talk shows, and Gucci handbags. I’ll take a quiet, unheralded talk with my teenager about her day at school while we dunk Oreos in milk. I’ll read a book with my son before bedtime and share a laugh about a “knock knock” joke he just made up.
I will never be famous. I will never earn bucket loads of money. The only people who scream my name are my children when trying to find me in a crowded room (and one time when I almost burned down the house, but that’s another story). And although I felt as a young mom like a Mother Hen being pecked to death by her baby chicks at the end of a long day, I still could fluff my feathers and tuck them in at night knowing I was doing the best job in the whole world.
I know that as my children grow and leave the nest, our relationship grows richer. The right kind of rich. The kind that holds your hand when you get old and says, “Mom, thanks for every thing. I love you so much and hope to one day, be half as good a mother as you were.”