I lead a rich fantasy life.
Mom Life requires it. When the day seems an endless cycle of clean-up, kitchen prep, and bathroom misadventures, I need to be able to check out. And the adult imagination is capable of so much more than designing Paw Patrol adventures and crafting arguments for broccoli consumption.
So I choose fantasy, the imagining of ideals that seem out of reach while parenting young children.
There are many different kinds of fantasists among us. I find each variation to be useful in its own way.
The Pragmatist
Pragmatic fantasy might seem contradictory by definition, but it’s real. There are points in mommydom when true fantasy – a complete departure from the real world – is just totally out of reach. Instead, these low-probability but theoretically-possible fantasies include dreams of dinnertime peace, abbreviated bedtime routines, doctor visits without tears, protest-free park departures. It’s the belief that the most mundane yet infuriating frustration suddenly ceases to exist, that the 73rd time Mom reiterates a family rule, understanding (and adherence) suddenly clicks. It’s the bare minimum fantasy but its unexpected fulfillment is utter bliss.
The Isolationist
This is my go-to fantasy. Again, it might seem small but I find it immensely satisfying. This is the fantasy of aloneness. Driving alone. Shopping alone. Sleeping alone. Bathing alone. Thinking alone. My not-so-secret item on this fantastical list is the birthday celebration alone. A hotel room all to myself. A menu driven by my tastes. Complete, undistracted dedication to the entertainment of my choice. Alone.
The Escapist
There are times when mustering the energy to design your own fantasy is just too hard. Hello, fiction! Welcome to binge-worthy shows with casts of imaginary friends and drama you don’t have to control. Books to take you out of the daily grind and fill you with words of inspiration. Characters to admire, loathe, celebrate, denigrate, all in the safety of unreality. And each of these is easily accessible with a free library card. Or a Netflix password.
The Deep Diver
This is the level of deepest fantasy and the one I uncover often in great conversations with fellow moms. It always starts with a brief admittance of guilt, and the assurance that we love our lives and would never change them.
But…some of us have designed our alternate realities. Our children and spouses still exist with us in the real world but we’re simultaneously existing on a different plane in various pursuits: studio apartments in Paris, Peace Corps assignments in South America, a jewelry business in Bali. These are the fantasies to help get you through that second bout of flu, particularly troublesome transition periods, or just a really dark day.
Fantasy isn’t for everyone. It takes a complete commitment to block out reality, a total disregard for the practical and productive. It requires a level of self-indulgence that many parents lose along the way. However, if you can manage it, I find it to be useful, low cost, and thoroughly refreshing.
And judging by the size of Harry Potter’s fanbase, I’m not the only one.
