Sometimes, after a long day alone with my young children, I wonder what life as a mother would have been like a long, long time ago, when we were cavepeople.
While it sounds unpleasant to cook squirrel meat over a fire, hide from wooly mammoths, and make clothes out of coyote fur, what sounds appealing is the cavemama communal living. Maybe the phrase “it takes a village” originated then: a time when mothers and sisters, aunts and cousins, helped each other with daily child-rearing and household duties.
In a world where so many of us find ourselves hundreds of miles from our own mothers and sisters, it’s oddly comforting to picture myself as a cavewoman, stirring a pot of bison stew with my nephew while my sister straps my baby on her back to forage for berries, and my mom potty [bush?] trains my son.