Like all women, I had a life before becoming a mom. And truthfully, I still don’t really consider “mom” to be my defining title. I’m simply Bethe; I’m lots of things. Even my first two names spell out Be The All Is (Bethe Allis). That’s why sometimes I forget I’m The Momma.
It often comes when big, life-altering decisions need to be made. Then, it’s the “Oh-crap-I’m-supposed-to-have-all-the-answers” moment of terror. Like when Evan was about 10 months and had Croup. Who knows all the answers right away when your child is gasping for air and coughing nonstop in the middle of the night?
Sometimes the realization also hits with small things like not being able to go drinking with the girls because I promised to watch Thomas the Train for the umpteenth time. Spoiler alert: Something upsets the trains, they learn a lesson, and everyone is super happy with a best friend whistle. Toot, toot! Please kill me now.
I remember those days when the biggest drag was my parents making me clean my room or realizing the guy I crushed over all semester really was gay. Yes, that happened. Just ask my two ex-boyfriends who have been partners for 12 years. (Let’s just say I wasn’t looking for love in all the right places.)
When did I become the one who has to cook, clean and do laundry? The one whose shirts are covered in snot and late nights are now 10 p.m. Even before I got pregnant, my tolerance was diminished from inactivity and about two or three drinks made me hugy and lovey.
Now, what am I going to do when the second one comes? That’s even more answers I’m supposed to have. It’s a frightening and amazing concept at the same time. I love being a mom. My son is the best thing I ever did and I know the second child will be just as wonderful. But I still have those moments when I want to curl up with my mommy and be that naïve little kid again.
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