Motherhood and Me

What is the best thing that has ever happened to me, think about who I really am?

My kid is at that age where I believe he’ll really start to see me for who I am. My habits, my routines, do I keep my word? My time management (or lack thereof), the company I keep, how I treat others, the way I take care of myself, where I fall short, what I’m really good at, and what I’m willing to be honest and transparent about or not.

My kid is the best thing that has happened to me, and I mean that, not in the way that I was always supposed to be a mom, because to be honest, I haven’t ever really thought about that. I was optimistic about whether I had kids or not. I wasn’t the little girl dreaming about her kids, her husband, and a wedding, and loved Barbies. My favorite toy, but my Barbies were fly, successful, and child-free.

Right before I got pregnant, I was in a familiar place I’ve spent at different times of my life. Perhaps frequently. Happy and miserable all at the same time. My life has a way of the best and worst things happening in my life simultaneously. For awhile I felt like I couldn’t seem to be anchored. But that’s the 20’s, right? I don’t know, I felt like my shit was just a little more off than necessary. Nothing seemed to be able to exist without chaos; it felt like there was always a trade-off of something. But when I became pregnant, my kid became my excuse. If I alone wasn’t enough as to why or why not, I mean, who was going to argue with me about my boundaries or desires, as a mom to be? Little to anyone, I tell you that. And to this day, he’s still my favorite reason for anything, for my better, and boundaries. Because when I realized I’ve been raising myself and still have to, I needed a North Star.

I have always been someone who loves my alone time. And I get 10x the things done when my kid isn’t with me, but I also am reminded of what else there is to know, learn, or try because of him. Teaching my kid to read and math hacks, how to be a good friend, or styling tips, or some of my favorite childhood things keep life fun and worth the challenge, and of getting through.

I’ve started rewatching Sex and the City from the beginning, and while being the same age as the characters in the show right now, and yes, some obsessions seem exxagerated but here now most of it’s really not. And recently I was a b*tch to someone, that’s what kind of inspired this post. I believe I’m pretty consistently intentional, so I try to consider the rapture before I take it there or not. And I think these moments are also the times that someone can choose to be informed about who we are, and this moment reminded me of when I used to always try to be the bigger person (until I couldn’t, and I would just explode and blame it on the way I’ve been letting shit slide). So while sitting in reflection, knowing that this could be a way they chose to define me and share this interaction, and someone could say she just be tripping or whatever could be said, in this moment I couldn’t care less about someone’s opinion of me, and having to remind someone of the way they have had me completely fucked up.

But that’s not what this is all about.

That thought then brought me to realizing this time of my life is where my son starts to see me and inform himself on who he feels like I am, or I think, because this is where I began to really have a perspective of who my parents were or weren’t and what I was getting from them. And I started to approach life with this idea in mind because of that. Now with my own son, I think about what he will believe to be true about his own upbringing and the way he will not only describe my parenting but also me as a person.

I’m still in that part of life where I am working towards the part where things seem to get “better,” and the ball starts rolling in the way that feels like the hard work has something to show for it (all things considered with the world I’ve had to grow up and live in).

Growing up and getting older are not mutually exclusive or synonymous. Growing up is a choice, and while in my youth, it fascinated me that adult logic seemed completely loose and ill-fitting most of the time, in my adulthood, it’s not so humorous nor piques my curiosity the same. It agitates me, even makes me a bit angry, that so many adults I grew up around decided not to grow up and conflate getting older and meeting certain benchmarks or accolades with that they’re somehow “growing,” and most of the time, they’ve just gotten in the way. They’ve caused more harm than good.

So all in all, I pray to be an adult that my kid can gain wisdom from, respect, and turn to for a reference point of moving through seemingly immovable mountains or valleys. Someone he chooses when he doesn’t need me, and someone who is one of his friends.