Nana has been helping me by taking the kids every couple of days in the afternoons, so that I can keep up with work, and this is a true godsend. Several days ago, while the kids frolicked with her, I did some work at home, then went on a mad dash into town since the next day was Peter’s birthday, and with everything going on, I pretty much forgot. As I was driving into town, I realized that I was going to get to go to the bookstore with no kids. In other words, I was going to get a chance to enjoy the bookstore, as opposed to spending the entire time putting it back together again. So, I parked the car and made my way through the municipal parking lot to our small, independent store. As I was walking through the lot, I suddenly had a rush of self-consciousness that I had not felt for years.

Throughout much of my life, all the way to the moment I was obviously pregnant with Ava, I was acutely self conscious. I hated being observed, I hated feeling like I was the center of attention—I always felt that there must be SOMETHING wrong—either my clothes or my appearance or my walk or (if, god forbid, I had to talk) my words (often there was something wrong with my spoken words, since it is hard to talk when shaking with fear), or even just my aura. In short, often I felt inclined to sink into the ground. I was a student that sat in the back of the classroom. So, as I walked across the parking lot, on my way to the store, with no one but myself—no little hands to hold, no little person to hoist onto my hip, no small people to distract me from my own awkwardness—I felt that awful feeling come right back. I swear I felt like I was a neon goliath. A person drove by and glanced at me, and I realized that I was no longer obviously a “MOM.” I was simply a not so terrifically dressed woman with fuzzy grey hair tripping over a crack in the sidewalk with nothing to do with her arms (fortunately, as I needed them to prevent myself from opening my forehead in the course of that fall…) and having a bit of difficulty breathing. It was not a welcome feeling. Not only that, but I kept feeling like I had forgotten something. Like clothes.

Now, there are 2 explanations. One: I am hiding behind my children and my role as a mother to avoid dealing with feelings of awkwardness. If that is true, I am capitalizing on the kids, which I am not so thrilled with as a possibility, and I truly don’t think I am doing that. Two: my children are so inherently a part of me, a very true part of me, and a very secure part of me, that their presence has finally allowed me to feel what it is like to be without self consciousness (of course, that is all lost when they start arguing in the store, but that is beside the point). This sounds very sentimental, and it is, but I also think it is true. Pre-children, you would never have caught me singing and dancing in the grocery store. Post baby, a review of the security tapes will reveal a 30-something woman crooning and swirling her way through the aisles with a baby bjorn hiding all but some tiny legs and arms. And I never even thought about it, until I was almost finished and thought, gee, here I am, making a scene. And then I thought, well, who cares? So, what this boils down to is that becoming a mom has focused my existence on something that is in sync with me. That may make no sense, but it always felt like I was flinging myself through life, searching for some sense of who the heck I was, and without that sense, I felt like I was walking around naked, and I always felt the need to escape. But now, I feel right in my skin, so to speak. No need to escape.

Of course, I probably should get used to holding onto that feeling while walking around without them. Then maybe I won’t trip on the sidewalk anymore. In the meantime, I think I will be sure to always bring a bag and clutch it to my chest. That always helped in high school.