The Change

There’s no doubt becoming a parent changes who we are. It starts with the physical. It moves on to the emotional, the intellectual, and some days, the psychological. It changes our wardrobe, modifies our mood, and alters our ego. It reworks our plans, revises our priorities, and rearranges our schedules. It can correct our habits and mutate our mates. Quite honestly, becoming a parent transforms every facet of our lives entirely.

That said, I’m not sure why I found myself dumbfounded once again last week at the madness that has become my life as a mom. As I attempted the simple act of vacuuming the family car, I was reminded of yet another change that parenthood brings: the apparent disappearance of personal ownership.

Nothing is this world is really just mine. Nothing is exclusive, and no place is sacred once we become parents. This could not have been made more evident to me as I discovered, one item at a time, the random hodgepodge of garbage that has been hiding in what I used to consider my vehicle.

Starting with the obvious--I found baseballs of every kind: new, old, squishy, hard, with covers, and without. There were eight in all. Add to that two ball caps and two batting gloves and I’ve got a dozen pieces of equipment that will bail out any unprepared ball player in a pinch.

Next come the “Mommy Supplies”. These are the two things that if a mother dares to enter the car without, she’ll probably be stopping along the way to buy: food and drink. Yes, a misplaced bottle of Aquafina, a couple hundred crushed Gold Fish and countless strips of bread crust carelessly discarded from the edges of a year’s worth of PB&J sandwiches was enough to force me to rename my car the “Nissan Virus”.

The following set of items come under the heading “Just in Case”: an insane number of napkins; a one gallon ice cream tub filled with a half-dozen plastic sacks (i.e. barf bucket); a spare set of clothes; and a good switch.

The remaining items could be labeled nothing other than “Random and Ridiculous”: one coloring book; two dead flowers; an orange, plastic slinky, smashed and partially melted; and a whoopee cushion.

The coup de grace was finding a conglomeration of hues-green, red, yellow, and blue-all beautifully melted and settled nicely into the inside handle used to close the passenger-side door. The one item-other than music and money-that actually belongs to me? A strategically placed bottle of aspirin. In case of emergency.

While I’m not particularly surprised by any of my findings, what I am surprised about is my attitude toward them. Five years ago, all I’d have found hiding under my seat would have been a couple empty candy wrappers, a few pennies and a long lost tube of lipstick. I could have cleaned up my spilled cups of coffee much easier than the surprise buckets of car sickness our oldest often throws our way. But oh, the things I would have to give up: questions about the moon and the stars, brothers giggling and singing and carrying on in the back, and little boys begging to be unbuckled because they want to be held by their momma as they fall asleep to the hum of the road and an old Merle Haggard tune.

Yes, becoming a parent changes who we are. And I couldn’t be more grateful.

And that’s All in a day’s work!