There is this universal culture of “Moms” right now. We drink wine. We want a bath. We like tacos, apparently? We have messy buns and wear yoga pants. We are EXHAUSTED. We sacrifice self-care in the name of motherhood and are proud of it, but at the same time despise it. We commiserate with other mothers about sleepless nights, potty training, and tantrums. We survive by our mommy-friends, or we are mom-dating and crying about not having mommy-friends. Because if we don’t have mommy-friends, we are alone. Because that’s what we are. We are moms.
We seem to acknowledge the losing of ourselves that happens when we become mothers. Yet, the mom community thrives on it. We are united in our mom-identity. All we know how to talk about is our kids. The only plans we make are play-dates. Of course our kids are the most important thing to us. But we are more. We are wives, lovers, friends, artists, dancers, writers, musicians, athletes, crafters, hikers, music fans, and a thousand other things that we seem to let fall by the wayside.
After four children, I hit a point where I decided that motherhood was something I did, and not who I am. And I am sure there are those who disagree, and are content with it. After all, raising children is the most important job we will ever have. But I am also sure that there are those feeling drained, and lost, and wanting more out of life. Those who are wanting to be more than “mom.” Ladies, I am right there with you.