Every once in a while, I look around and wonder what in the hell happened to me. I have three children. I have one dog and one cat. There is a fence around my backyard. I own the house I live in, as well as the aforementioned back yard. I drive a minivan. So, at least once a day, I find myself wondering just when I stopped being me and turned into the “mom.” This leads of course, to wondering who I was before I was the mom. Was there a time in my life when I didn't have anyone to take care of? I can't remember.
I love my children, I am proud of them. I have their names tattooed on my back. I smoked while I was pregnant. That's not something that I am proud of, but I did. I did not however, drink or take drugs. I do not abuse my children, neither physically or mentally. I curse around them, I try not to, but I do it. I do not, however, curse at them. I lie to them, sometimes for my own amusement. I deflect tough questions, and let them come to their own conclusions.
I suppose everyone has a parenting style that suits them. I have gone from the perfect mom in the first year of my oldest daughter‟s life to a being a “real” mother. Parenting magazine still has a place of honor in the bathroom, but it is no longer my bible. It is in the bathroom because that is the only room in the house that where I can hide from my children. Seriously, I turn on the fan and pretend that I can't hear them through the door. It's awful I know, but sometimes I just need to breathe.
"They just love you Honey" My husband tells me.
I'm sure they love me, I am their mother, but I think it is more likely that they have secret meetings in the morning while I am still asleep. I believe that they devise a strategy for the day, every day.