When we become mothers, and then for those of us who become “stay at home moms” we find ourselves losing our identity. We wake up to kids demands and rush around getting breakfast made, teeth brushed and socks found, only to continue on with diapers, naps, lunches, bus pick ups, dinners, bath time and then bedtime routines.
We try to maintain our mojo all day, each day, but obstacles get in the way, like sicknesses (for the kids, moms don’t have time to get sick), missed buses, bills,forgotten school lunches and so many other unforeseen things. We go and go all day doing things for others that we usually have little time for ourselves and for most of us we are “ok” with that….because we know that it is our “job” and if we have to let massage Groupons expire and cancel hair appointments because we can’t fit it in between ballet, math club, and sick kids we tell ourselves that it is not our time…but it will be soon enough.
We hold a special place in our heart for our life long friends but find that our “new” friends we have made since motherhood fill the void at this time in our lives, and for them we are thankful. Discussions about the first day of Kindergarten, the swine flu and why our husbands can’t seem to put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher make us feel that we are not doing this alone.
We have loving spouses who are wonderful and everything that a husband and father should be but leave our chaotic world daily for business trips and meetings, and although we know that they are not “off at a party,” they are being social. They are up-to-date on current events and have more energy to discuss politics, sports and weather rather than spit up, time-outs and tonsillectomies.
My “new” friends don’t know what I was like before kids. They don’t know the guys that I dated or what my first apartment looked like. They have no clue which classes I took in college or when I got my first speeding ticket. They weren’t there for so many pivotal moments in my life, but right now, during this time they are my rock.
We know that we won’t finish a thought or conversation without being interrupted by potty talk or crying and that today’s yoga pants were most likely last nights pajamas. We don’t have to explain why our kitchen floor is always sticky or why there is art work written on our couches. There is an unspoken bond between us and we are all aware that we are each going through the motions of our day in hopes that we can hold it all together, or at least give the allusion that we are.