Posted on

Yesterday Logan and I were in the store shopping, when our attention was drawn towards the inconsolable crying of a newborn baby. As we passed, Logan said, “I half expected you to run over there, grab that baby and start soothing her until she calmed down.” I raised one eyebrow at him, and he continued, “Yeah Mom, I saw you perk up when your super sonic hearing caught the first cry of distress. In a flash you changed from distracted shopping mmmmm ice cream woman, to a laser focused lioness on the prowl, like “Mother-mode activate!” I laughed, and told Logan that I WAS tempted to go offer to help.

Later the night, we were laying in bed and I was listing off the tasks Logan needed to complete the next day. And in between asking him if he brushed his teeth and remembered to unload the dishes and did he use dandruff shampoo when he showered…? He suddenly interrupted my rapid fire questioning by impatiently pressing a spot on my thigh like an elevator button, crying out, “DEACTIVATE mother-mode! I repeat, DEACTIVATE MOTHER MODE! All systems shut-down!! This is not a drill!! Mayday! Mayday!”

Other tell tell signs that you might be a mother…

You start to sway when you stand, just like you were still holding a baby, and trying. to bounce her to sleep, even though your arms are empty.

In the sleep deprived early days of mothering, you fold an entire basket of dirty laundry or answer the door without pants on.

You’ve gone shopping with the kids, and left the groceries behind at the grocery store.

You have the negotiation skills of a hostage negotiator, and can defuse such high stress situations as who gets shotgun when both people call it simultaneously.

You are the only person in your entire family that can find lost items.

You eat other people’s leftovers.

You call your kid by anything BUT their name.

You ask vague but pressing questions like, “Why is this wet? What is it wet with?”

Your fantasy is not that you want to sleep like a baby, but like your husband.

You start to understand why some animals eat their young.

For you, silence isn’t golden… but suspicious.

You could easily slip into the role of air traffic controller without even blinking an eye.

You use time out for yourself, and not your kids.





Leave a Reply