Been contemplating the “I’m that Mom” meme for a while, and finally just churned something out.  I don’t know if it explains everything, but something anyway.

I’m that Mom who hears the words, “you’ve got your hands full,” about 16 times a day.  I’m that Mom with two grocery bags, a purse, a diaper bag, and the toys my daughters insisted on bringing but refuse to carry, all balanced in her arms while a near-two year old is perched on her back and a four year old is struggling to keep up.  I do this because I don’t like limitations, because I simply must get out of the house but still haven’t gotten my driver’s license.  I do this because I’m able-bodied and because I can.  I do this because my four year old looks at me with her big blue eyes and says, “Mommy, can we go to the store to get snow letters?” and she melts my heart and I can’t say no this time.  (For some reason fruit leathers are called snow letters around here.)  I do this because the one thing that keeps the near-two year old from attacking the four year old, and vice versa, is going out and seeing the world.  To me, even a not-fun experience is an experience, and better than no experience.  I do this with my hair combed and my makeup done and my clothes flattering, because I have to.

I’m that Mom who finally arrives home, sweaty and body aching,  and tosses all the baggage aside to collapse on the couch to exclaim, “I’m never doing that again!” even though I know it’s not true.  And then I tell the kids, “entertain yourselves, Mama’s tired!” as they clamber on my lap and the near-two year old tugs at my shirt to nurse and the four year old grills me on what we got at the store and what she can eat right now and can she go outside to dig in the dirt?  ”Eat whatever you find,” I tell her; if she eats something I was planning on using, I’ll figure my way around it, I always do.  ”Go ahead, dig in the yard!  Just stay in the yard, please.”  And I marvel at the way she immerses herself in dirt and bugs for an hour at a time.  I look forward to when she’ll ring the doorbell repeatedly until I answer it, and exclaim that she is “Butterfly,” the new neighbor, and can she come in?

I’m that Mom who will go out of her way to find a good smell to counteract that bad smell we smelled when passing a dumpster.  Because it’s really important.  I’m that Mom who exclaims, “I’m impressed with your egg-peeling skills!” when she finds bits of egg shell crackling beneath her feet, “and can you help me put these in a bowl… when you’re done with your egg, of course?”  Because I know children need to do things in a certain order, and they’re good people, and they’re sensitive, and it’s all the little things that matter the most.

I’m that Mom who had a mishmash of Mom examples… a birth mother who wasn’t often there, but when she was, showed unconditional love and made it clear she’s only human.  A stepmother who scared the crap out of me, and haunted my dreams and my subconscious for years after I left home (before I was even done with high school).  A dear sister who made it her responsibility to protect me, to show me how to protect myself, and who was always there with her big heart and strong advice whether I sought it or not.  I’m that mom with a big library of books on gentle unconditional parenting, because the idea that I could be scary or absent scares me to death, and I want to be the best mom ever  by using a combination of leaving them the hell alone and always being there for them, but I know my conditioning, emotions, and incessant worrying can get in the way of that.

I’m that mom with an enormous amount of social privilege–white, young, slender, healthy, physically attractive, three-digit IQ, mentally stable (for the most part!), but I wish privilege were given to the unique and authentic, because those are the qualities I like the most.  Personally, I don’t feel very unique but I seek to be authentic in everything I do.

I’m that mom who got a degree in Web Design before she was sure she wanted kids, because she knew that if she were having kids, she’d want to stay home with them.  I was pregnant with my first as I finished my degree, and was appalled at the looks I got from the guidance counselor when I told him I wasn’t searching for work right away because I was pregnant.  As if I was just throwing away all opportunity on children.  My children who give me more joy than anything ever has in my life, certainly more than my career does, as much as it suits me.

I’m that mom who can’t stop kissing her beautiful daughters’ soft skin whenever she gets the chance.  I’m never short on affection for them.  They are so beautiful, and complex, and fabulous.  Even when they are completely melting down, I am proud of how deep their passions are.  Despite my sad childhood and not having enough hands or time in the day, and never having enough money to do all the things I want to do, I think daily that I must have been amazing in my past life to deserve what I have now.