Dude, I’m Actually Your Mom
My son’s nicknames for me are changing the way I feel about motherhood
I feel differently about motherhood these days. like I’m growing out of it. Not motherhood in general, but myself, as a mother.
Maybe it’s overdue. He’s sixteen. He’s the last “little” bird in my single-mom nest. He’s 5'10".
His older brother and sister flew the coop as soon as they were each 18, and they make occasional appearances at my new condo.
After recently downsizing from the large family home where the kids grew up, I’m settling into a place half the size, so there’s no room for everyone to have a bedroom anymore.
Except for me and my youngest.
I set him up with a sweet bedroom, complete with a new desk and bed, trendy art, and the creature comforts of his old room; like his favorite blankets and his childhood stuffed animals.
He’s my baby, after all.
I’m 52, but I’m losing my grip on feeling like a mom, after 21 years of being one.
How do I explain this? It’s like a bowl of cold soup after you’ve been sitting at the buffet for hours.
Now that I’ve earned true street-cred as a mom, I don’t even feel like one.
