It Begins

I know that mothers are right because I have one, and I am one. It’s not like me to mention that right out of the gate. The part about being a mom, I mean. You know I’m right.

After our son was born, our doula came for a post-partum visit. One comment she made stuck hard in my brain. She said it can take around two years for your ego to catch up with you becoming a parent. I’d say that’s about right. Our son is just over a year-and-a-half old and I’m just now talking about him in public. Sometimes I feel like a celebrity (okay, I feel like this quite often, and you should really stop encouraging me) who adopted a child in secret and doesn’t want the paparazzi hounding her. But I am, in truth, secretive with strangers about the kid because I can’t stand being labeled. And if someone labels me a mom? I might as well sport elastic waist jeans and switch to decaf.

Back to the part about me being right. I mean about moms being right.

My mom tells me periodically that I should write more. I tell myself that I should write more. You should see all the letters I’ve started writing you, then never finished. I didn’t grow up with this emotion installed, but I feel guilty that I haven’t written you more. Or ever.

It’s no longer 1996, so starting a blog isn’t such a big deal. But maybe now I can free myself of this guilt. I’m writing this for you.

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22 Responses to It Begins

  1. Pia says:

    Please write, I’m begging you! I have no idea what I’m going to do in Colorado not seeing your face on a near daily basis.

    • Alana Joy says:

      Ooh, thanks lady! That’s how I feel about your blog…which I should add to my blogroll. I was inspired by your break-up post. Finally! Enough! I must doooo it.

  2. Anne L. says:

    Great first post! I can’t wait to read more!

  3. mona.holsapple@gmail.com says:

    This is wonderful! Please keep writing and do it often. When Michael turned 60 last November he had a epiphany that he never really knew what his Dad really thought about having achieved the ripe old age of 60, so he began a series of letters(actually some of them have been like small novels) to our sons, ages 27 and 25. It has been absolutely amazing to see Michael open up to the boys and to see their response. This is a long post…so I guess the bottom line to my message is ….keep writing…who knows what it will spark! I miss you!

  4. barb keres says:

    looking forward to following you and the boys. I love your writing

  5. Kitty says:

    Ha! Since I met you because of impending motherhood, I may be one of the only people who doesn’t know you’re reticent about that info. Also, love the ‘mom jeans’ clip. I’ve seen that skit before and I could have sworn there was a line about “patented front-butt technology,” but it’s not in the clip. Did I make that up??

  6. Catherine says:

    Love it! Moms ARE always right, except when we screw up and have to admit to our children that we are imperfect human beings. It’s always fun to shock them a little with that bit of info, though. I really have to get some of those Mom Jeans. I’ve been doing it all wrong for nearly 9 years – guess I didn’t think my butt would fit in ’em.

  7. WHERE”S MY GODDAM HAIKU!?

  8. Also, Love the post. Have you used the word blogosphere unironically yet? 🙂

  9. anastasia says:

    Good job; short, sweet and to the point. I had the same ego schism after having M. In fact, it was YEARS before with I was the ok with the concept of “wife” after getting married to N. Too much baggage attached to both notions.

    Then, I met more women like me, in the same throes of life, and what we were became who we are — and how WE rocked it, not the notions that were rolling around in my head. It was a peaceful transition to come out of the closet in both roles. 🙂 And, both roles are constantly evolving, of course, but I really feel like I couldn’t have gotten here without my sister-friends, the very ones who call me, “hey, mama…” in fondness and kindness.

    Anyhow, much to say about that all, but perhaps better on the phone. Welcome, mama, welcome.

    And, yo mama’s right!

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