Working mommy me

I cam across this mention over at GymnasticsCoachingdotcom and I was thoroughly stoked to not only see one of my blog posts described as "great" but also to see myself described as a "gym mom". While I'm not necessarily sure that chasing Gavin around a gym trying to keep him from getting back-flipped upon by the older girls and intermittedly giving the Goose a handful of pretzels or fetching her dropped sippy cups constitutes one being a "gym mom", I am thrilled with the title nonetheless.

Gavin certainly enjoys gymnastics and I certainly enjoy being a part of it- although I could live without taking Goose with us every Monday. Unfortunately, the husband bowls on Monday night so there is no way around dividing my time between parent coaching the Gavinator and tending to the Goose. I did, however, finally break down tonight and ask a neighbor to watch Grace while I took Gavin to gymnastics (oh my... it was so much more enjoyable to not tag team the kids admist all the hustle and bussle) but I can't make a habit out of it. It would take way too much vodka (side note: is it wrong that paid my child's babysitter in the form of a giant serving of mango vodka and sprite?).

Anyhoo, I think it is interesting that titles that we, as mothers, gain in the process of rearing our children. I think titles in general are interesting. Karrie has dubbed herself "One Weird Mother" and over at MadisonCody.com there is talk of changing the blog title to "Dorky Mom" (although I claimed to have that title trademarked... I don't but I should... so there). The Sarcastic Journalist is sarcastic and as fate would have it, is also a journalist and lo and behold, Kind of Crunchy Mama is well, kind of crunchy. The diet coke of crunchy- just one calorie- not crunchy enough.

If I were to give myself a title- or many titles, for that matter- I don't know what they would be. Since I am about to embark on my journey to Kansas City and hopefully see two people that up until now, I have only known a la the internet; I have been thinking a lot about how I come across to people.

I have met several wonderful people via the intenet (the husband being one of them... say it with me now... LOSERS!!!!) such as Devolution, Lisa, and Jennifer from Babycenter and I had a blast! They were everything and more I thought they would be and while I have the great luxury of living in the same city as Devo (we're having lunch on Wednesday), I almost wished I hadn't met Jennifer and Lisa because now, I have to miss them. Awwwwwww, cheese-fest!

So how to I come across to people? Hell if I know. Last week, Gavin's gymnastics instructor asked me how old I was because I act like a "young mom" (hmmmm, is that a nice way of saying "quit jumping on the equipment and watch your kid you immature sack of poo"?). Just this week I have been frantically searching for someone who can fill in for me at work while I am in KC and I have talked to several of my colleagues. Turns out, I have a professional reputation. Who knew? I mean, sure I'm totally the best dietitian ever (unless you're on the debate board and then I have to back up my statements with a zillion and one kellymom. links like everyone else) but while I certainly take care of business, the past few years of my life have been totally family-centered. This trip to KC is the first big work thing I have done in almost 5 years. I've just been getting by professionally speaking and to be told from people I have never met that they know who I am and they want to fill in for ME because they have heard such good things about ME is a little wild. I'm blown away by the fact that I have a "professional reputation".

I think the reason I am blown away is NOT because I have doubts regarding my professional work and persona (dude, I did say I was best dietitian evah) but because I lack self-awareness in all aspects. Or at least that is what I think it is. I get the big picture that is me (mom, wife, dietitian, friend, sister, aunt, blogger, etc...) but the details? Notsomuch.

Like today a coworker (and former pumping partner) came up to talk to me about her 5 year old son who has been stuttering for about two years. I thought she wanted my insight because she knew that the Gavinator has been in speech for a year but it finally dawned on me about 10 minutes into the conversation (after she said that she knew I was "thorough" and "you have probably researched this issue for yourself") that she was asking me about speech therapy for her son who stutters because I stutter.

I stutter.

Oh that's right. I stutter.

It seriously took me while to catch onto the fact that she wanted to talk to me about stuttering because that is something I do. That's like talking to headless person about not having a head and it taking them ten minutes to figure out that you're talking to them about not having a head because they don't have a head. Now granted, a headless person doesn't have ears- or a brain that could process the whole conversation- but for the sake of this very poor anaolgy, let's pretend a headless person can hear and reason. The ears and brain grow out of their buttocks. They would catch on to the fact the headless questions had to do with the fact that they are in fact headless far faster than I figured out this person was talking about me.

I am so clueless about myself sometimes that I even forget that I stutter. It's not even that I forget (little hard to forget considering how much I talk on a daily basis) but stuttering is just one of those small parts of me that gets lost in the big picture. To her, a "stutterer" is a title that I wear but to me, it just gets lost in "me".

Does that make sense?

Sometimes my lack of self-awareness can really suck. I like to think of myself as a good friend but sometimes I don't realize that that what I say or the words that I type can have an impact. I think of myself as a friend- a nice, empathetic person- but sometimes I do and write shit that hurts people. Not on purpose but because I don't always realize that my words- silly old words said or written by me- mean anything beyond the broad scope in which I view myself. I may be a kind person and think of myself as such but when I make a blog post poking fun at people who live a different way than me- not because their life is is worthy of poking fun at but because I'm not aware enough to realize until pointed out to me- that my biases stem from my own issues that are lost in my broad views of who I think I am.

Confused? Me too.

One confused gym mom. That's me.