Mom’s Secret Identity

secret identity

Batman has one. Superman has one. Even Iron Man, although his really isn’t a secret. I have one too. So does every other mother. The problem is, I don’t exactly remember who my secret identity is. We spend the first part of our lives establishing our identities. We are always someone’s daughter/son or someone’s sibling. Then there comes a time that we get to stand on our own 2 feet. We stop being known as someone else’s something and have our own identity. Sometimes it takes moving away to do that. Sometimes we just need to find something in our lives that only belongs to us like a job we got on our own merits.

And then we are plunged into a deep hole of losing that identity that we fought so hard to find. Sometimes its through marriage. Now you’re someone’s wife. You’re not just you, you’re part of a pair and you will forever be known as 1/2 of that pair. And then the big whammy. MOTHERHOOD. Your secret identity will slowly slip into the far reaches of your memory. Now not only are you someone’s mother, but you are part of another dynamic that will never allow you to be identified by yourself. And that can be hard for anyone. Now you’re a wife and a mother. You’re no longer a single entity, nor will you ever be again. And this is when it’s so important to fight hard to hang on to that identity you worked so hard to cultivate.

It’s easier to hold on to it if you have friends that were there before you became part of your Dynamic Duo or Terrific Trio. Their very presence helps reminds you what you were like before you crash landed on Krypton. They will pull you back from the precipice of Parenthood by reminding you of good times past and the personality traits you’ve had to suppress. Other times, it’s a little harder. When your significant other is being exceptionally asshole-like. When your child decides that she would rather whine about everything than be the high functioning human being you know her to be capable of. When the entire world just seems to want to unleash a hurricane on whatever parade you’ve mustered to celebrate you. There should a be group called Moms Anonymous. No names are exchanged, but these moms can vent about the things that are pulling them away from the amazing individual they once were. Don’t get me wrong, every mother is amazing. We not only brought life into this world, we have also managed to sustain it longer than any house plants we’ve ever had. But we aren’t the person we were before children. We aren’t the person we were before marriage. I don’t mean the selfish, fall down drunk party girl. I mean the person who had hobbies and quirks. The person who stood on their own 2 feet and made their way in the world. That’s my secret identity. And I’m pretty close to losing that person. My days consist of car pick up lines, homework, dog walking, cooking, cleaning, being a sound board for my husband’s misery, cautiously asking my daughter any question because her emotions are as unpredictable as a land mine. I used to read for hours on end. I was a woman who worked hard so she could play hard. I rode ATVs, something my daughter won’t even consider. I take pictures. I’m not talking about “I have an iPhone and Instagram so I’m a photographer.” I mean really take pictures, like search for that perfect shot, spend hours on the hunt for the right light. Now, I have an iPhone and Instagram. And reading……I have to stay until the wee hours of the morning to get in quality book time, so in other words, it’s not happening.And it goes deeper than that. My phone charger doesn’t even belong to just me. I have to share my vehicle. I have to share my personal space. I know, I sound ungrateful and bratty. And on a normal day, I’d agree with you, but this Super Mama has reached her limit. I used to have a gypsy soul. Now I have the soul of old lady who looks back fondly on pictures of her youth. I have to fight hard to hold on to the person I used to be, because it’s important to remember how you got to where you are. I like my secret identity. She’s kind of awesome. I would like to see more of her, because SuperMom is getting tired. I need to retire to the Bat Cave and JARVIS order me a pizza.

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