A Mom

So I have a sinus infection. Again. I guess it’s better than some sort of other bodily infection (ew) but I state the fact that I have sinusitis so as to set the scene here…

I’m hopped up on meds.

I’m sitting at my desk after many many days off.

I’m feeling nostalgic and sentimental.

I’m about to get heavy.

Not fat heavy, but deep heavy. You’ve been warned.

Somewhere in the middle of November, maybe closer to Thanksgiving, I was doubting myself. My roles in life. As a wife, as a mother, as a career woman, as…well, as Me. It wasn’t some huge V8 moment where I just fell to the ground and cried “WHO AM I?” - it just sort of snuck up on me. The Mom role, especially. I started thinking about it one day in the middle of telling Big Kiss to do it “because I said so.”

Really? “Because I said so?” And there was a lot of tossing around “Santa’s watching you” and “Just wait ‘til I tell your father” and “Please stop licking your brother” and “No, I don’t want to see that you wiped your butt really good.”

Who says those things? A Mom, I guess.

I’ve been questioning things like why did God choose me to be a Mom. And to be these boys’ Mom. Any twat can give birth and become a Mother. But I’m their Mom. I say things like the above. I think ahead 47 steps if one of them has a fever and what will it mean for daycare, work schedules, will the other one get sick, how much pain is he in and do we have Motrin. I always pack a diaper and paci in my purse. I buy clothes for them before me (mostly).

But how did I learn to do and say all of that? Is it instinct? Did my own Mom teach me without realizing? And would they be better served with someone else as their Momma? Like someone who didn’t work? Or didn’t have so many emotional issues going on? Or someone who adores playing BatManCave 27x a day?

It’s really hard for me to grasp the fact that I’m 30. OK, Fine, I’m 35, you assholes. A 35 year old, married for 7+ years, 2 kids, house in the burbs, all American yellow-lab owning woman. That’s the profile of an Old Woman.

Not me.

Not the hottie w/ big firm boobies and hips to match! Not the smart, driven work-a-holic who could put in 60 hours a week and still manage to enjoy a happy hour. On a Tuesday. Not the carefree friend who could jump on a flight for a weekend getaway on 24 hours notice. Not the adventurous 26 year old who moved cross-country for a job and slept ‘til noon on the weekends.

When did my “old” profile leave me, and when did I become this…this…current Me? I know we all have to grow up at some point. But I really can’t believe that I have 2 small children who depend on me to make them waffles and to raise them to be good. To kiss their booboos. To care for them unconditionally, even w/ dirty stinky bums.

Alas.

I’m leaving this open ended, for me to revisit when I can, because I have no answers yet. I guess I just continue to do what I can. To be the best Mom I can because I’m all they got. (Don’t tell Mr. Kiss – he’s the “good cop”).