Loss Of Identity

To say that I have done a great job of maintaining my independence and have several unique interests that are in no way connected to my kids is a bunch of crap. Like a lot of other SAHMs, the only time I'm seen doing something that isn't kid- or family-related is when I'm working out at the club or drinking at a bar, and even then it's pretty likely that my kids are on the tennis court or at the table with me. As a result, a lot of people know me because of my kids so it seems that I'm always associated with their names. Sometimes I go days without hearing my actual name, and instead am referred to as "Charlie/Zach/Zoe's mom."

A couple days ago while I was running errands I got caught off-guard and couldn't avoid having to talk to another mom. After she said "Hi Zoe's mom!" the first thing she told her daughter was "Oh, you remember Zoe's mommy, don't you?" (To be fair, I have no idea what her name is either, because I barely know her and every time she has told me her name all I hear is "blah blah blah" because I'm never able to focus on anything besides her out-of-control hair and the fact that she wears mom jeans.) I looked at the girl and said "Hi, I'm Jody." She said "Hi, Zoe's mom."

Last night while we were in the car, Zach started talking about girl names. More specifically, he was telling me about the girl names he doesn't like, which include pretty much all names that start with the letter J. "Jane, Jill, Julie -- any time I hear a name that starts with 'J' -- I picture a freaky-faced spaz that acts weird and bizarre. Someone strange and completely annoying."

"Oh, kind of like the name Jody?" At this point I was trying to decide which was worse: That my name brands me as a bizarre weirdo, or that my kid forgot my name.

"Yeah. Or, oh. Um, that one's not as bad." So I got that going for me -- my name is not as bad.

I guess being known as "Zoe's mom" isn't such a bad thing. After all, it's a hell of a lot better than "Hi, my name is Freaky-Faced-Spaz-Who-Is-Completely-Annoying Adkins."

Phrases That Make Me Go "GAAHHH!"

The conversations change as soon as the pee hits the stick and the blue plus sign appears in the viewing window. From that point on, it seems that never again can anything be discussed that doesn't include "the baby." I know that kid-related topics are going to come up once in a while, and obviously there are priorities that have to shift, but sometimes when I'm with adults, I just want to talk about movies, or stupid shit, or make fun of people, or maybe just talk about what kind of drink to order next. There are some people that were really fun pre-kids and would be more than capable of being a little bit fun post-kids, but now instead of "Enough of this shit, do you want to meet for a fucking beer? Or five?" it's "Let's meet for coffee and talk about the redesigned Diaper Genie."

Over the past few years, my tolerance for these conversations has been gradually diminishing to the point of nonexistence. And while I've become pretty good at escaping meaningless chit chat about potty training or bedtimes (a benefit of hating all moms clubs), there are some phrases that I can't always avoid, and they will always make me gag a little bit whenever I hear them.

• I'm preggers. Actually, I think what you're trying to say is I'm pregnant.
• We're pregnant, and we're due on March 8. Honestly, we all know it takes two to make a baby, but the last time I checked it was the woman that gets knocked up and gets to push the duffel bag through the keyhole, which most likely won't happen on March 8, and yes, she will probably want drugs.
• Is there a quiet room available for me to use so that I can breast feed my child? Nursing is free, convenient, and it makes your boobs look fantastic. But not everyone at the party wants to know exactly what it is you're doing behind Door #1, hear about your lactation schedule, or know that little Petunia is latching on like a pro. Just quietly find a couch/chair/spare bedroom/fitting room and knock yourself out.
• No, I can't use that blanket because it isn't made with organic cotton. Unless the blanket is woven from the ass hairs of a rabid skunk or was just used to wipe up a gasoline spill, just say "thank you" and take the stupid blanket.
• I'm sorry ma'am, but we don't have Ketel One. Seriously, what kind of bar doesn't have Ketel One?
• Is the birthday cake made with all organic ingredients and whole wheat flour? It's a cake, and kids generally like their cake to taste good. Just assume that the cake is made with normal sugar, non-organic butter and white flour, and it might have even come from a magical place called "Costco." If it's really that important to you, don't ask, and then don't have a piece. Questioning the sub-par eco-friendliness of a child's birthday cake and expecting the party host to recite the ingredient list is kind of mean and a little bit pretentious.
• I know he broke the lamp, but boys will be boys. Accidents happen, but shit does not get broken just because they're boys. Offer to replace the lamp, stop blaming the kid's lack of coordination on gender, and make the kid apologize.
• Will you childproof before we come for a visit? No. But I won't have dishes of bleach or mousetraps lying around, either.
• I would get so bored being a stay-at-home mom. What do you do all day? Sit on my ass, eat crappy food, and dream of ways to inflict pain on clueless, inconsiderate people that have the balls to ask stupid questions.

No, My Name's Not Sarah

Being adopted from S. Korea as a baby by a caucasian family, only to grow up in a school district where I pretty much represented the minority population, had it's ups and downs. The ups are that I had a family that loved me. The downs...There was a blonde neighbor girl who thought it was funny to call me "Chink" every time she saw me. I hated going to Chinese restaurants because the employees always assumed I was an exchange student, looking for a taste of my native land. Some people were confused by the fact that I didn't love to take pictures, and I frequently amazed strangers with my excellent English. When it was discovered that I was good at math and played piano, it wasn't considered to be shocking news. More than a few people increased the volume and slowed down the pace when they talked to me. Apparently, the "you're a moron" look that I have worked so hard to perfect is not universally understood.

The craziest thing by far, though, has been the phrase "you look just like ____." I have been mistaken for that one person that plays volleyball at Hamline (she might be Asian), one lady's own daughter (I'm not kidding), and countless distant cousins (but it's never my own family member that asks). I've been asked "did you go to high school in ___?" (they never ask Forest Lake) too many times to count, "do you know my mom?" (No), and "did you used to work at TGI Fridays?" (Hell no). One person asked me if my name is Sarah. When I informed him that I was not Sarah, he replied "Are you sure? You look just like Sarah."

Perhaps it's these experiences that make me a little bit jumpy when it comes to strangers making generalizations about my kids. When one individual found out that my boys play piano, she said "Well, of course they would be good at piano. Because, you know..." Since she seemed to be waiting for me to fill in the blank, I offered up "because they have hands?" Instead of taking the hint, this lady kept jamming her foot in her mouth and corrected me by saying "No, because they're Oriental!"

While at a tennis tournament, a boy who obviously considered Hostess as a main food group walked by my 11-year old and said "stupid Chinaboy." Charlie informed me of this incident when he saw the boy waddling back to the concession stand for more sustenance. I know I could have just ignored the name calling, but instead I poked a finger into his doughy shoulder and informed him, very clearly, that he was kind of a creep and that walking around calling other boys such creatively challenged names wasn't really acceptable. Waste of breath? Probably. Gratifying? Definitely.

Numerous people have told me how much they love the Microsoft ads because the little girl working on the computer "looks just like Zoe!" For one thing, I write on a Mac, so I don't pay attention to Microsoft ads. And besides the fact that the person in the tv spot is a girl and has hair, she doesn't look anything like my daughter. Someone could say that she looks just like Venus Williams, and I would actually see the resemblance, since Zoe does have a great forehand.

There's a lot of assumptions that can be made about almost everybody. Belong to a country club? You must be an asshole. Live in a trailer? You have a lot of recipes for Spam. Stay-at-home mom? You must be an alcoholic. Just remember, though; when you assume, you make an ass out of you.