My Secret Identity

I have been flying solo for the past week, and I have a week more ahead of me. Moreover, my social calendar is really kind of slow. So, I am a little dry on adult conversation and interaction. And, it may be starting to show. I didn't shower today or put on make up, and I wore cut off scrubs and a paint shirt all day. ALL DAY. Even to the store. Really. "Really?" you say. Oh, yeah.

I am reminded of my own mother (of 5). Not that she didn't bathe, she was just a mom full-time, all of the time. She spent loads of time with us, being a truly awesome mom. Since we only had one vehicle until I was into Jr. High, she didn't have a lot of options for going places. So, there she was with the five of us... hanging on her, yelling at each other, chasing around, and just being all around crazy, energetic, normal kids. Wow. Kudos mom.

So as I go through my own motherhood process, I have these continual revelations of how much I am her now. I have a child, change some diapers, get no sleep, live on coffee and think: "Now, I am her." Then, I have another kid, change potty sheets in the middle of the night, clean throw-up out of my heating vents, memorize kids books, forget important things (like where Jason's paycheck is) laugh uncontrollably at times, and think: "No, now I am really my mom." But then, I have another beautiful wonderful child, and somehow, I have begun to live in two realities: the one where I am an adult and the one where I am Mom. Not a mom, not even like my own mom, but Mom. I have begun to realize that "Mom" is much like a secret identity, or as Josiah would say, a "secret iditity." The adult, Natalie, went to college, eats at nice restaurants, has manners, can speak in coherent sentences about intelligent topics. But, more and more, she feels like the facade, the one that is kept around so no one will know the real person - the secret identity. And, that person is Mom. Mom is the one who knows how to properly die when shot or run through with a light saber. She knows how one should set up battles between indians and cowboys and that the plastic medic army guy is a great healer of all wounds. Mom knows how princesses wear their hair, what a tower should look like, and how to make a sound pillow house. Mom enjoys coloring, playing with play dough, eating plastic food, and even laughs at passing gas, especially if it is her own. I really like this "mom" person, even if she does have more gray hair, a belly button that will never (not ever) be the same again, forgetfulness issues, silly humor and the like. I wonder if all people with secret identities secretly like their secret identity the best. I am thinking that I do, mostly because she reminds me of my own mom.