Where did I go?

I was out for my daily run and saw a car drive by with plates that read "BRADSMOM," and I thought to myself... really? As if we wouldn't get the picture when your son comes barrelling out of your car and screams "Mom, where's my soccer bag?" It's as if we as mothers trade in our old identity with a new one pre-approved with a stamp that says MOTHER, in case the Mini van and ponytail, didn't give it away.

Although the license plate annoyed me....... it made me think. This year my little man turned two, and I had a revelation. After two years of pouring my devoted new found motherhood into him, I stopped and wondered.........where did I go?

Looking in the mirror I still see traces of me, maybe a frazzled less stylish me, but something inside me did start to wonder, where did I go? It was as if all the pieces that made up who I was were scattered about waiting...... calling to be put back together.


It's funny how I used to focus on the milestones of my own life, college, marriage, children. Now my milestones are focus more on the when to take the bottle away, graduating from the crib and potty training. It's as if time has transformed into something different for me, a portal of self-sacrifice and apathy for the person I used to be.


Since my son has developed new independence, he even brushes his own teeth( with strawbeery flavored toothpaste of course), suddenly have a little more free time. Now, don't get me wrong chasing after a toddler after an eight hour work day can still be relentless, but the other day I realized I have spent the last two years loving every ounce of this little person, and being "Brody's Mommy, " worrying about his ears, his sippy cups, his blanket, his potty, and whether I was being a good mother. I realized I forgot that although I am a mom, I'm also me. I realized my soul needed feeding, reawakening and nurturing.

Back in the day I don't remember telling my husband.........not now honey I am trying to brush Brody's teeth, or no we can't go there because there is no potty. I'm pretty sure my reply was usually "That sounds lovely, lets pack, and oh grab a bottle of wine." I painted, I baked, I even wrote thank you cards. Now I am lucky if I get fifteen minutes to read prior to passing out before bed, that way I might have something more interesting and intellectual to talk about, other then what my kid ate for breakfast.

It's amazing how your individuality can slowly disintegrate leaving you wondering what you did before you had a child. I know now, I'm still me, it's just some of my personality traits needed to be revived and allowed to resurface. I realize now I can still be me and an even better me because I am " Brody's Mommy,"and that piece of the puzzle only compliments the other pieces.