A long, long time ago I was kidless. Yup, it’s true, shocking, I know. I did not realize back then how much I could potentially lose of myself and who I am, if I let it, once children were added into the mix of my life. But once J and I started our family, and I looked around, I noticed that a lot of people seemed to use their children to define them entirely as a person.
Now granted, once you have kids you do devote your every waking moment to ensure that they are fed, clothed, semi –clean, loved, etc. And yes, being a parent does define a large part of you. You become Mom or Dad. Sometimes both. But it does not negate the essence of WHO YOU ARE. Or it shouldn’t, in my very humble pre-caffeinated opinion.
Yet that seemed to be fairly common. As a new mom, I met moms with kids the same age as mine, desperately hoping to find someone I could connect with, I would most often find out more about her children’s toe fungus issue, or how amazing of a mom she was because she never complained, not once, but by the end of the “play date” I might still have never found out her name. She was simply “ So and So's Mom” or “ His/Her Mommy”. A few times I found some great people who could joke about the dark side of parenthood. And I was thrilled! But it was rare. Once in awhile I found myself with foot in mouth having joked about how awful some aspects of parenting really are and I'd get a look like I was this evil Mom. There is like some law I must have missed that says once you become a parent, and more specifically a mom, you must NEVER tarnish the description of Mommyhood!!!! You must always smile and brush off the fact you were up until 4AM and covered in puke while your child spewed pea green vomit down your PJ’s. In fact, you must act like this is a holiday! You must loudly tell how awesome you are because you are paying $2000 a month for the bestest tutors to come to YOUR house to privately teach JR quantum physics at age 3.
Fine, I am being hyperbolic. But you get the gist of what I’m trying to say? From playground to preschool I noticed a trend that scared the shit out of me. A lot of parents define themselves as a parent, and not much more. And while I have my flaws, I didn’t want to lose my sense of self
I may have children and proudly/tiredly wear the title “Mom”. But I am MORE than Mom. I am ME! I’m still here people, the sarcastic bitch B.C. (before children) you knew! Yes, I may look a little more tired. Yes, my witty retorts may come a lot more slowly. Yes, I drive a fucking minivan! But I am STILL ME! And I refuse to let go/censor/forget myself just because I have 3 mini me’s tearing the house apart.
I still dye my hair crazy colors
I still dream of getting my third tattoo
I still have a nose ring. (Actually, I got that post kids, come to think of it.)
I saved my sanity when I found out we had to get a minivan, by collecting Skull decals and funny bumper stickers to plaster it with. Mom’s Taxi I may be, but Soccer Mom I ain’t.
I still swear and I’m OK with that. Yes, I do try to keep swearing to a minimum with the kids around but they have been taught that those are “Grown Up” words and can only say them when they are 18 years old.
I still try to wear clothing that reflects my personality. And while I try to make sure I don’t wear the hair band/bracelet that says Bitch when I’m going to a park, I do wear it proudly when I’m out with the femmes.
I’m still very sarcastic and have an immature sense of humor. I laugh at farts and belches. I kind of have to, surrounded by 4 males. But it’s no less enjoyable.
I still play video games. In fact I game nightly with J. And yes, I laugh my ass off when I blow things up. I talk smack with my gaming buddies, banter the night away, and love it.
This blog is my place to not only write about the trials and adventures of being a Mom, but it’s my place to write about those adventures as I want to, using my warped sense of humor, peeking into the dark side of parenting, and shining a flashlight on it. It’s my place to fantasize about my long lost Size 8 pants, or wishing I could get away with wearing a leather corset, daggers on my hips, and thigh high boots without the public wondering if I went insane. It’s my place to bitch, whine, vent, snicker, reflect, brag etc, on my life, my family, and the stories that accumulate as we journey on this path as a family.
So sit back, grab some wine, and enjoy the stories. Some will make you smile. Others will make you sad. Some might make you snort that wine up your nose as you start laughing. Who knows where each post will take you? I have no clue even as I write them. I just write what comes to mind, as me.
Welcome aboard Suburban Rebel Mom. I hope you enjoy the ride.