Identity Theft

Over the past few years, well, more than I few, I have come to the realization that my life is no longer my own. I can't put my finger on exactly when the transition happened, but at some point, I went from being me to being "the girl child's mom." Or "the boy child's mom." Or even, "the husband's wife."

This is not always a bad thing. I am usually proud of the things that the girl child and boy child do, and I kind of like being known as their mom. Even being "the husband's wife" is OK. He is a gregarious kind of guy, the husband, and although he sometimes says or does things over which I have no control, I generally don't mind being known as his wife.

But, I do have a life, you know.

Well, I used to, anyway.

Before the girl child and the boy child were born, I actually did things. Sometimes, I went to the movies. I took art classes. I ate dinner with friends. The husband and I traveled. We didn't usually go all that far, but occasionally we would impulsively head up to Maine for a long weekend. We would stop at the Freeport outlet stores and buy just about whatever we wanted. For ourselves. We had this thing called "discretionary income." I can't remember exactly what that is, but I kind of remember that back then, it was fun to have. I'd venture a guess that it would be nice to have it again sometime.

I have noticed that when I make telephone calls, I often introduce myself by saying my name, and then following up with, "the girl child's mom." It is as if my name is not enough to identify myself. One day not too long ago, I got on the bus and saw a man I recognized. As I was walking past him, I said hi. He looked at me blankly. I said, "You're so-and-so's dad, aren't you? I'm the girl child's mom." And then he knew who I was. Apparently, he has no life either.

Most of the time, I arrange my life around the boy child and the girl child. If there is something that they are scheduled to do, I have been known to rearrange my plans. I know there are parents who do not do that. I know they are out there, these parents. They go to the gym. Whenever. They. Want. They may even go out at night. I know I could do this, I suppose. It is no one's fault but my own that I do not. But honestly, I'd rather the boy child have a dance lesson each month than pay for the gym for myself. Perhaps there are other forces at work, though, when it comes to the gym membership. Maybe this is a bad example. But I think you catch my drift.

Sometimes I wonder what I am going to do when the girl child and the boy child go off to college. Who will I be? Sure, I have my work and everything, but that is not what really defines me. I will have to redefine my Saturdays and Sundays, my weeknights after work. No more back-to-school nights. School fundraisers. Schlepping to the mall for outgrown jeans. Homework help. What will I do?

We may eat dinner after six again, the husband and I. We may once again stay up all night watching Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn film festivals on PBS. We may go out to dinner with friends. Maybe we'll head out of town for the weekend. I can safely say with some certainty, however, that we will still be without discretionary income. At least until the girl child and the boy child get themselves some jobs. Until then, I do believe that I am not the only one in this predicament. I am thinking of starting a support group.