Wonder Years

Lately I have been feeling like a stranger and alone in my own (and well, fairly new) world of motherhood. It's like those weird years when you were still trying to decide whether you want to stay being a kid or grow into an awkward and confused pre-teen.

This world of motherhood I somehow don't know how to fit in. To say the least, the amount of friends I have that are moms are like 2 or 3, and whenever I try to do mom-talk with them I tend to be too "motherly" and sentimental that everything just turns out to be too awkward for us that we just give up on the topic altogether.

The rest of my friends are either happily single, unfortunately single, depressed and single, single without a choice, in a happy relationship, in a relationship, in a im-so-head-over-heels-in-love relationship, and the oh so, in an annoyingly-too-mushy-get-out-of-my-face-and-get-a-room  kind of relationship. They talk about their boyfriends, girlfriends, failed conquests, and future conquests while I talk about my son. They post photos of them eating, drinking, kissing, and mushing all over social networks while I post photos of my son in every unimaginable sleeping position and angle possible. 


Whenever we strike up conversations about our old habits, random things, and totally useless facts and bullshit--which is of the awesome kind, something in me somehow veers away from the topic-as if motherhood had somehow created a metaphorical mind-controlling alien in my uterus that filters what I want to hear and say and limits it to motherhood and babies. It makes me all pleasant and nice, with the patience of a Sadhu monk. Oh, I am totally dying to break free!

Then there's the mommy mommy friends. The ones you can gush all about every minuscule detail of every second of your child's existence in this planet- from being a tiny blood in your uterus to being the little screaming gremlin that they sometimes are-and yes, they will love you for it and would empathize by sharing their own gushy mom-ents (see what I did there? *wink wink*). But for the life of me, I can't get myself to rant to them about how I just want to punch that asshole standing next to us, blowing smoke rings smack into my child's face. I also must remind myself : "You don't spazz out curses in all tongues around them". They are the mom moms and I feel like one curse equates to: "I have Tourette's and I am neurotic". I'm not saying they are judgemental--it's just that they are too motherly and I'm like the un-mommy who has countless mom-ents of never-ending sentimental and endearing memories and thoughts of her child and motherhood.

Damn it, it is now sinking in that this world I am in, I feel like a stranger. I am that awkward pre-teen. The one whose boobs are too poofy for the sando bra but too small for a training bra.