A few minutes ago, Thomas walked up to me and asked me, "Is your name Thomas?" (We've been joking about names all morning, taking turns pretending to be each other. I especially like when I get to be Elijah or Thomas and demand that they give me food: "No, not that food! Wah! I want it on a blue plate, not a dark blue plate!")
I responded to Tommy's question by saying, "No, I'm not Thomas. My name is Mommy."
It's a good thing that I know my name isn't really Mommy. It's so easy to think that with young children in the house. Doesn't it feel sometimes like your identity is swallowed up in the identity of your children?
I visited my Mom last weekend alone, sans kiddos. It was strange to realize that I felt so ... myself. I wasn't playing the part of mother or wife or friend. Just daughter and I've lived that role my whole life so it's just part of who I am. It's nice sometimes to get out and just be me. It's nice to remember that I have a name other than Mommy.
When I would go on field trips with my children, I would write "Mrs. Braxton's mom" or whichever child I was with, on my lunch bag, since that's what the students were going to call me anyway.
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