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“What does it look like to be “someone other than a mother” when you’re already all-in on mothering?” I’ve heard some version of this question since my book of the same name came out in April, and I love it for its earnestness, and I love it for its honesty, and I love it for its admission that like, yeah, I’m a little busy wiping other people’s mouths right now AND I want to celebrate the sliver of agency I still have. Until recently, I didn’t feel like I had a very sticky answer for this question. (My advice is typically of the more philosophical type—like, build a house of belonging unto yourself—that kind of thing.) But then, while wiping dribble off my own mouth, it comes to me like all my favorite answers do: in a triplet.
Ponder: Being someone other than a mother looks like learning to say and then ask:
Oooh. I am trying to design a life that brings my people delight—what would bring me delight? what extracurricular sports league? what after school sweet treat? what self-soothing technique?
Ohhh. I am noticing that I’m flopping between being a pushover (no boundaries) and a porcupine (all boundaries)—what needs are going unmet? what flags need raising? what boundaries need softening or firming?
Ouch. I am practicing being a fully-actualized adult with aches and pains and wounds and wonderings—what do I want you to know about vulnerabilities? about my insecurities? about my hurt feelings? Because I love you and you impact me.
Pause: Okay. Your turn. What have been some of recent oooh, ohhh, ouch moments? Which sound is the most challenging for you to make? Which one feels most important to practice today?
Praise: Good for you. You who refuse to conspire in your own diminishment. You who are practicing taking up space, showing up whole, and being a grown-ass adult who can say, “Ahhh. This being human takes time.” And trying is cool.