That Mom

I’m funny and nice, but don’t cross me when it comes to my kids.

There’s a guy named Richard—I’m pretty sure that’s his actual name—I’ve encountered him several times over the phone at one of my children’s medical provider offices. I’m just going to say it: I can’t stand that guy. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve called and just hung up when he answered. He’s the least helpful and the most annoying. If you can’t help me, I’m going to find the person who can, and if that means I have to hang up on you and call back for someone else. I will. I am that mom.

I learned pretty quickly as a young stepmom of 3 that it helps to stand your ground when necessary. If there is one thing my kids know, it’s that I will fight for them to get everything they need to be cared for and successful.

As a special needs mom, I’ve learned that people don’t always love it when you advocate for your children. I feel a little sorry for the new people in offices who know less than the special needs mom. Do not tell us you cannot xyz because we know you can. If we can, you can. We are the masters of networking and the internet and if it’s even remotely possible, we can make it happen. I am that mom.

In the summer of 2023 I became a Naval Academy Mom. That’s a whole thing. A WHOLE THING. There’s a whole new lingo about brigades, CHITS, CACs and huge pride of being part of the Navy Blue and Gold. Go Navy Beat Army. I’m that mom.

There is a mom I am not. Class mom. I won’t ever be that mom. Also, don’t come at me with your reading logs, I don’t do those either. Sorry teachers. I am not that mom either.

I’ve worn a lot of mom hats over the years. Step mom, special needs mom, homeschooling mom, adoptive mom, foster mom, cross country mom, track mom, private school mom, public school mom, divorced and remarried mom, working mom, stay at home mom, berieved mom. One of my daugters asked me recently if I felt like I gave up anything professionally doing all the mom stuff. The answer is no. The days can be long, but in a snap they are years and your nest is a lot less cluttered but also a lot more quiet.

Being a mom whose kids are leaving the nest is a poignant blend of pride and heartbreak. As they step into their independence, I find myself reflecting on the memories (some good, some not so good) while grappling with the bittersweet reality of letting go. It’s a journey of embracing new beginnings for them, even as I navigate the silence and space they leave behind.

I am proud to be “that mom” who has nurtured my children into confident, independent individuals, taking on the world, in a couple of cases now raising their own children and everyone making their own mark. I’m not just “that mom” I’m their mom.