I am

I am Annie. I am mom. I am babe. I am Ang. I am hey you, and her mom and his wife. For awhile I was Fiona but then they started asking me to pay for the site and I lost interest. I am cheap. Last week I was Alice to a mom with a lot on her mind. I am still laughing at the look on my daughter’s face when I answered to that.

I understand.

I am a daughter and a daughter-in-law. I am a sister and an aunt and your friend. I am that woman staring at your babies and toddlers and thinking they are beautiful.

I am also thinking I am glad my children are older. That I am thankful they can tie their own shoes and make their own snacks and wipe their own butts. Mostly that they can wipe their own butts. I am a fan of that.

I am a good friend and I am loyal. But I am fierce and protective of the people I love. I am forgiving but I don’t forget if you hurt me or my family. If you make them cry, I will make you cry! I am a redhead.

I used to be smart but now I’m kind of medicated and confused.

I used to have a good job and validation of a job well done. Now I’m easily pleased with a thank you for making you cookies and fudge. I like fudge and cookies, and shiny things, and sunshine and flowers and spring. And my dog. I like my dog. She was doing the funniest thing the other day where she’d nudge me with her nose and then…..

I am easily distracted.

I am hoping I am not the person I see in the mirror but I’m kind of afraid I am. I am pretty sure I’m much younger and hipper than she is. And that my boobs are much perkier. I’m wondering what happened to them. I was the breastfeeder of 3, but not all at the same time. That could be it.

I was the holder of babies. The woman who ignored you when you told me to put them down so they could nap. I am the mom who stared at them in wonder. I still am. I am proud of them.

I am a lover and a wife. I am the woman with the husband you want. The one who took 3 kids to the grocery store when they were little so I could rest. The one who does the dishes. The one who makes me laugh and look forward to March Madness. How the hell did that happen? Who is that woman? Where did she come from? I am not sure.

I am not often the one who asks “why me”? I am more of a “who’d I piss off in a past life to deserve this?” kind of gal. I am also the one who looks at the people I love and who love me and says again, “Wow, what did I do right  to deserve this?” I am lucky and I am appreciative.

I am scarred and pale and weak but I am strong. I am lifted by love and laughter and family and friends. And I am resilient. I am also muscle free and grossed out by wet bread in the sink. What the heck is up with that? Why do people think the sink is the place for uneaten food when the garbage can is so near by. Don’t get me started on wet meat. Eww!

I am still easily distracted.

I am the finder of lost things. I am the only one with the ability to lift things and look under them. I know where things are kept even if I did not put them away. But even I, am not the finder of lost socks.

I am the writer of brilliant posts in my mind at 3am that never quite come together in the morning. I am shopping for an Ipad and a good nightlight.

I am the one you called super mom but not in a nice way. You called me that because I bake every treat I bring to school for parties and birthdays from scratch. I am the mom of a child with a nut allergy. I am “super mom” because I want her to have a safe snack that will not send her to the hospital. I want her to be included. You are not nice.

I am a lover of the sun but easily burned. I am rejuvenated by nature and mountains. I have had sex on mountain tops. I have had pine needles in places I shouldn’t. I am strengthened by nature but invigorated by the power in the air in NYC. Or maybe that was drunk from pollution. I don’t know. I am fascinated by those with lives so different from my own. I like pizza. I miss the east coast.

When I was on the east coast I missed home. I am hard to please. Ok not really but it seemed to fit there. Wherever SG is, I am home. I am mushy and annoying like that.

I am a walker because I am too lazy to run. I think it makes my boobs even less perky. I am the maker of lame excuses.

I was that girl who could ski anything. I spent every spare day on the slopes. I was good. Then I met a southerner and got married and had babies and left the mountains. I am that woman you judged and whispered about to your friend because I skied a run on the bunny hill with my baby in a Bjorn. You didn’t know me or what I could do. I am careful, always careful, with my babies. She loved it, and loved me, and slept for hours afterwards. I shared my world with her and you frowned. I can feel you frowning now. What if I’d fallen? What if she’d gotten hurt?  I didn’t, she didn’t. We are fine.

I can hold one hell of a grudge.

I am the mother of the girl who failed her human sexuality test. In part because she was embarrased to label the boy parts but also because she “was just sure the rectum was in the front”. I am confused by that but also very amused. I am a failure at “the talk”. I am in search of a good diagram for her sisters.

I am a lover of margaritas and red wine and strong micro-brews. I get sick when I have them now. I am pretty sure that really pisses me off!

I am “that mom with cancer”. I am the one who makes you uncomfortable. The one who you used to seek out but now makes you take a sharp right around the clothing rack to avoid. I saw you.

I am the one who makes you thankful and fearful at the same time. The one who makes you hug your children tighter and question your pains. I am the one who makes you get them checked. I am good with that. I am proud of you.

I am more than you know but likely less than you think. I am nothing more or less than me.

I am done. I’m sure you are thankful for that.

Who are you?


51 thoughts on “I am

  1. No way, you could have kept going and going and I would have kept wiping away my tears and reading and reading. You’re a really talented writer Annie, and such an amazing wife, mom and friend. Even though I don’t know you, know you, I can tell! I’m in awe that you skied with a baby – I think that’s awesome! Screw the naysayers!

  2. you guessed wrong. i wanted it to go on because whatever you say has the ring of truth. and is honestly stated. you can be pissed off and thankful at the same time. makes sense.

  3. I am Jeni.

    I am guilty of putting food in the sink.

    I am also guilty of blaming it on the kids when my partner says he thinks it’s gross.

    I think you sound fantastic.

    I am hopeful that there is a ‘coming soon’ sequel to this post.

    (And I like people who scare me a little. It helps you grow. )

  4. I am someone who’s glad she read this. Isn’t it weird how scared you get when you see a sick person…like it can wear off on you?

    I meant rhetorical you…not real you…or real me. I grew up amongst damage and am at home with it. Good luck

  5. I love this! You and another friend of mine make me seriously think of starting my own blog. You always have me thinking and give me ideas when Im in the mood to write.

  6. I am someone who is so grateful to have met you, even though it is through the internet, and feel you are a true friend to me
    (should I admit I misspelt and wrote fiend – thought ‘freudian slip’ and knew you would laugh at that -because I think both you and I could be true fiends about things we are passionate about, like our kids etc)
    I too am that “mum/person with cancer” …seeing the looks on peoples faces when I tell them it is back…again. Neither of my daughters mention my cancer on their facebook pages except to announce that ‘gertrude is back’ in very obscure terms that only their very closest friends know what it means, because they dont want to be the ‘daughters of the mum that has cancer’. Its not who they are either.
    I too have learnt to ignore the people who cross the street to avoid talking to me, or worse dont even recognise me without my long hair and large boobs.
    I know now my real friends are and am grateful for them.
    Love this post Annie and see I almost wrote a whole blog post back to you as a comment
    Thank you, my friend

  7. That was the greatest thing I have read in a long time. I am glad I found this blog. I am inspired by you. For tonight, I’m blowing out the Lady of Guadalupe candle.

  8. You are beautiful and brilliant. You’re a poet: you’re smart no matter how wittily you say you’re not. You’re a snowflake and a candle and an apple and a star. I’m thankful for every word you wrote here and I think you rock.

  9. I have an additional comment ~ took the Queen (my high school senior and only child) out for dinner tonight and as we were talking, she brought up an English teacher that she really likes. This teacher “gets” her struggle with writing, and offered to help her. The child really IS lacking in written skills. I pulled out my new spiffy smart phone (that I am NOT smart enough to operate) and showed her your “I Am” blog. Just let me say, and let this wash over you like a warm wave, you touched, moved, and inspired a teen ager to reach, grasp and use the resources available to her so she can improve. When she was done reading, she looked at me and said, “Damn mom, I wanna write like that.”

    • Or maybe you know too much about me now? Thank you for the tweet!! I’m amazed at everything you write so that really means a lot. I can ski with you if you want.

  10. Annie, so happy to find out more about you, the more I know the more I like. And me? Well I too am easily distracted. I can’t ski or ride a bicycle, in fact I can barely swim…basically I’m a little useless.

  11. This is a bit late (I actually read the post last night) but this was an amazing post. I wish I could come up with that much about myself to write and convey it so well to others. Really a lovely post. Wish I could manage skiing alone, much less with a baby attached. Bet that was an awesome experience.

  12. I just came across your blog today via the Mouthy Housewives. I thought this was an absolutely beautiful, heart-warming and even funny post. Love it! I will definitely be back for more. 🙂

    Also re: your I am a badass post ~ after volunteering at a roller derby event last summer, I too found myself inspired to join all those hip chicks doing hip checks. That is until I remembered that I can’t roller skate to save my life. Better that Malicious Mellowdee just sticks to selling programs n’ 50/50 tickets….

    • After watching it, I have to agree with you. I’d be much better selling programs or something. Don’t tell my family I said so, but I AM NOT cut out for that.

  13. Annie –
    I’ve been away from blogland a bit lately, feeling a bit lost in my own chaos, but am at last doing a bit of catch up this week on my reading.

    I just finished reading this, and even though it’s a few weeks old, I still wanted to tell you what a great post I thought this was. It was so raw, and honest, and even though I don’t “know” you in the traditional sense of the word, I feel like I “know” you a little more from reading what you’ve shared here. Lovely writing; thanks for sharing.


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  15. I have been following you for a long time…I think I originally found you through The Mouthy Housewives. Your writing is beautiful and I especially enjoyed this post…so much that it moved me to comment. A fellow Kindergarten mom was recently diagnosed with cancer and your post has now motivated me to continue to be the friend who “seeks her out.” Thank you for your inspiration and please continue to challenge us.

    • Thank you! I’m so sorry to hear about your fellow mom. My middle kiddo was in kindergarten when i was diagnosed. It was so tough. Stick with her – she’ll appreciate it more than you know.

  16. Pingback: The Beginning. « anemommy

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