Ch-ch-ch-changes
I have experienced countless changes since becoming someone’s mother a little over a year ago: Moving from an apartment in New York City with a super to a house in northern Westchester where I am very much the super. Stomping down 8th Avenue in my lace-up Doc Martens with a messenger bag slung over my shoulder. Now most days I hastily shove my feet into Merrills and then schlep a huge diaper backpack to a place in which I’ll soon have to kick them off. Hopping on the subway with my headphones blaring Talking Heads or David Bowie. Now I drive a mom-mobile SUV and sing, “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” to placate my son.
The Mom Cut
I can confidently proclaim that I fully understand the allure of mom jeans: They’re the most comfortable thing for putting on early in the morning and keeping on all day. They’re excellent for sitting on the floor and playing and crawling around. They go with anything, so they don’t require much sartorial thought. And of course they’re washable.
Honestly athleisure is even better…which is why even after I shower post-workout, I just put on a clean version of leggings and a long t-shirt most days. I also understand the pull of a “mom haircut,” which is usually defined as some sort of chopping of one’s long hair: Again, it’s just easier. And most days the only person who would see my hair done is my toddler and that is before I need to put it in a ponytail so he doesn’t pull on it.
“Mom”
I struggle with another big change: The transition from being an individual who is defined by my personality traits, accomplishments, and even likes and dislikes and instead simply being viewed as a mom. Although I am so grateful to have such a wonderful child and I am proud of how far I have come as a parent, sometimes I just miss being my own person. I miss people knowing my name. I used to be Sam or Samantha or Professor or even Dr. Now I’m just ‘his mom’ or ‘mom’ or ‘ma’am’.
“Hello my name is…”
Earlier this year, I was in a music class with my son. We were engaging in the greeting ritual of singing hello to everyone with which most baby and toddler classes begin. Typically, each child is greeted by name. If you’re lucky, there will also be a general shoutout to “mommies” or “parents.” Some particularly inclusive classes also mention nannies and grandparents, or just generally refer to caregivers.
I was delighted when during this music class, the teacher brought us around again to say hello to each individual caregiver BY NAME. I could see the shock on the other parents’ faces that someone knew our names. One mother put her hand on her heart. Another looked teary-eyed. My cheeks flushed pink.
Grandmas are always right
In another class, a grandmother and I got to talking. Although her granddaughter looked familiar, I admitted to the grandmother that I couldn’t picture her daughter. I didn’t know her name even though we had surely been in the class together. She persisted with a detailed description but sadly I still couldn’t place her. “You should know who she is,” she said in a slightly irritated voice. “We usually know the kids but not each other’s names in these classes,” I responded. She was justifiably annoyed. She told me her name again and said I could also just call her “Mimi,” and asked mine.
Later in the class she gave unsolicited advice on my son’s lack of walking although he is well into toddlerhood. She also recommended that he take a nap ASAP even though I informed her that he had actually just risen from one. Usually this would bother me, but since she was making an effort to know me, I didn’t mind. Plus, I was reminded of another grandmother a bit closer to home. When we left the class, she made sure we knew each other’s names one last time. I really hope we see her again soon!
It’s not that I don’t want to be recognized or acknowledged for all that I am trying to do as a mother. It’s just that I would like to be acknowledged for something else once in a while. And maybe, just maybe, one day, I’ll be able to be a mother and that other person together!
Thanks, so much, for having touched me (and so many others, no doubt) as to choices made at any given point in time and the rationale behind them. I, too, opted into a 24/7 career with a biz card sharing ” MOM ” as the job title. It was not a difficult choice to make but I have learned to reflect upon who I was then, why I chose to go the path I did and the direction in which my choice and I have gone. My gut is that you, as a highly educated and multifaceted woman, are happy with who you are but wonder if you lost a part of yourself in gaining a new one. Your blog, which is now my modern day Socratic table, allows me to see how organic being a stay at home Mom really is. The job lacks a manual and hats worn change with the wind. It is one of the greatest gifts to indulge in and, yet, it does take over one’s entire being. I’ve stopped, over the years, to wonder if my youngest daughter, having told her teacher that her dad was/is an attorney and her mom a vegetarian ( you can’t make this stuff up), was given a role model worthy of instilling equality and more. Yes, she was but it was done so, on my part, by modeling other strong traits and explaining my choice at various times in her own maturation process. Thanks for having stopped me in my tracks, years later, to take a look at where I came from and where I am!
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