Hey, y’all. It’s Mother’s Day. Time to do that motherly thing – you know, reflect, reminisce, overthink and become annoyingly emotional. The fact of the matter is that I love being a mother, and I wouldn’t have my life any other way; but this current “me” is not a “me” I ever saw coming.
When I was in high school, I predicted that I would be overly obsessed with my career. In fact, it was my goal. I told everyone I would be living in a downtown loft in Chicago – with amazingly beautiful hardwood floors, simple but expensive décor and unimaginable views from my floor-to-ceiling windows. There was no way I was getting married until I was at least 35, and children…. Well, children were never part of this narrative.
Things turned out a bit differently. I worked in the field I had imagined, but that was the only similarity to my very elaborate daydream. I got married to my college sweetheart at 26, and we never lived in a big city or even remotely close to Chicago. And truth be told, I knew by the time I got married that I wanted kids. I just couldn’t, for the life of me, imagine when.
Therefore, I suppose I procrastinated a bit when it came to motherhood. I wanted to be there, I just didn’t know when or how. And the older I got, the more difficult it became. I just didn’t have that “mommy” instinct. I was never the woman at the gathering gushing over the baby, baby showers were kind of a nightmare, and cookouts or parties with friends? Forget it. I remember one specific time when I sat at a barbeque at a friend’s house with the rest of the “wives.” Everyone was talking about nap schedules and lice warnings and bottle nipples. I remember leaving that party and saying to my husband (who was ready for kids years before I was), “I will never be that woman. Even if we do have kids, I will die before I sit around and talk about stuff like that for hours.” And I became pretty good at zoning out every time kiddie convo topics would come up. I just couldn’t identify with these mom-aliens. I would NEVER be a stay-at-home mom. I would NEVER drive a minivan. I would NEVER wear flats every day. NEVER. Even if I did become a mom, I wouldn’t ever be that kind of mom.
Well, I’m here to tell you. I sucked at making that prediction too. Here I sit: a stay-at-home mom, who drives a minivan, wears flats every day, and LIVES for baby conversations. It’s my favorite thing to talk about. I barely have time to get work done, I desperately need this hair situation addressed, and some days, I don’t even put on real clothes. With a 14-month-old and another baby on the way, I am but a shell of the “me” I used to be.
But the good news is this – this “me” just might be my favorite “me” I’ve ever met. My mind is going 90-to-nothing trying to come up with new toddler entertainment ideas and worrying if I’m doing everything right; my back aches from getting up and down off the floor a hundred times a day and chasing after a curious baby; but my heart … my heart is so full with love for this child that I am sure that it will burst at any moment.
I’m a mom. It’s not a part of my resume that I ever imagined, but it’s the best job I’ve ever had. I’m right at home here in motherhood, and I am grateful for the blessings I have received to allow me to sit here and share this story with you.
What’s my point? It’s simple. There are many versions of “you” out there in the hypothetical universe. Some of these “yous” might seem impossible. Some of these “yous” you might not even have imagined. And it’s possible – as in my case – that your all-time favorite “you” actually once was the least favorite “you” you could think of.
So, please don’t limit yourself. Make it a point to explore life’s possibilities every day. You will find there are so many more “yous” out there – what about giving a new “you” a try?
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