Herstory

Don't make any attempt to escape your history. Ever. It catches up with you and solidly bites you in the butt. Case in point. I attended a farewell party on Friday night for Kara and Andrew with Miss Aundrea. Kara and Andrew and Kara's kitten, Kava, have now safely arrived in Boulder, CO and are probably trying to figure out which box the toilet paper is in. But I digress. The history part. While I did directly meet Aundrea and Andrew through my son and DIL and their friends, I did not know anyone else at the party with the exception of Kara. Are you still with me? I realize this is a bit over-long and I do apologize. The point is, there was someone at the party, when he was introduced to me, remarked, hey! you're Mike's mom! For my entire existence I have been defined as fill-in-the-blank's sister, daughter, mom, wife, girlfriend, aunt, friend. This sort of thing used to seriously annoy me. Because being identified so somehow robbed me of my own identity. I expect becoming a mother is what altered my point of view. Maybe because I was creating some history with the birth of my sons. I now delight in being referred to with a description of my relationship to another human. I like the inclusive feel of my connectedness to others, it enhances my identity. Aundrea has created a flow chart to explain how she knows a new friend. Which makes me want to set up an enormous white board with me in the center with all my friends and loved ones radiating out in expanding circles. I am Mike's mom! And Reid's mom and Edna's daughter and Martine's sister. This is my history. I couldn't have a destiny without it.