The other day, I was rushing to get my daughter to the bathroom in time when I peed my own pants. Just a little, mind you, but enough to shame me.
And more than enough for me to see the irony.
And I thought about how this kind of thing happens so much to us moms. Always the last to eat. Always first to get sunburned. Last to bathe. First to clean up the gross thing. Last to see a doctor. First to wake in the morning. Last to sleep after a long day.
And we accept this — even embrace it — on our good days. Playing second fiddle is part of the job — the job we’ve known since we were first pregnant, maybe even before that, when we started eating more kale and popping prenatal vitamins for the mere idea of someone else.
Then come those early days of motherhood, and all you’re doing is feeding, holding, and diapering a tiny human. To the point of exhaustion. Literally. We actually need to be reminded to close our own eyes, clean our own skin, feed our own bellies.
We embody selflessness. We are self-less.
Then those tiny people start to grow, and the hope is that somewhere along the way, you reclaim bits of yourself. Maybe you’re back at work. And while that has a whole other set of challenges, one positive is that you reestablish your identity outside of being a mom.
I have a mom friend who’s a scientist. Another who’s a high school biology teacher. Still another who’s a ballet teacher. And more than I can count who are doctors. This is part of who they are.
But what about those of us who take a longer leave from the workplace? What if your entire identity is wrapped up in being someone’s mother? Because then, instead of diapering and swaddling, you’re chauffeuring and chaperoning, overseeing homework and shopping for soccer cleats, and — dare I say it? — still living their lives.
A recent conversation with my 3-year-old (who goes to “school” two mornings a week) went like this:
T: Dada goes to work. S goes to school. E goes to school. And I go to school. And Mama goes home.
Me: And what does Mama do when she gets home?
T: Makes my lunch.
Me: OK. And what else?
T: Makes E’s lunch.
And I realized that in the movie playing in T’s curl-covered little head, I dutifully go home and prepare to serve her needs for the rest of the day. And the needs of her sisters. Which is kind of true, but it’s not the full picture. But it’s not T’s fault for not knowing that yet.
Because the stay-at-home-mom has to work a little harder to establish identity. I try to remind my girls (and myself) that I’m a mom, and I love my job as a mom, but I’m also a writer. Some days more of a writer, some days less, but it’s still an important part of my identity.
And occupation aside, we’re all so many other things, too. Things that have little to nothing to do with being a mom. We’re leaders, mentors, advocates, board members, travelers, athletes, daughters, wives, sisters, and friends.
The key is to keep in touch with some of those other parts of yourself. I recently started playing in a basketball league again and am reminded how much I love sports, how before I ran a household I ran up and down the court.
A good friend of mine believes the point of life is to realize one’s full potential. What I like about this is that “potential” is so subjective. I already know that part of my potential is to be a good mom. But I think my potential might include more than motherhood, too, and I can see that now that my girls are getting older and the dust around us settles a bit. I just need to chart my path forward.
And I need to get to the bathroom on time.
