Officially, I’m a mom.

Remember that Julia Roberts’s never-ending story meme? Yeah, that kind of mom. I used to laugh so hard at these memes that nature found its way to achieve this awkward state of balance, where I can both laugh and cry and cry some more at the same time.

Honestly, I’ve never thought I’d become this person.

Let’s Face It, I’m a Mess.

Just a couple of days ago I had an ambushing intervention. My mother thought a wise thing to do was to take the kids out and allow me to be by myself for a couple of hours. She said I looked like a mess and should do something about it. If nothing else, have my hair cut.

The shock of it all got me confused, and I simply played along.

 I have never thought of myself as “being a mess”. It’s true that my hair was a bit greasy, and the color was dull, but then again, it does happen sometimes, right?

I was angry at her. Who gave her the right to speak this way to me? Judge my appearance? Be so cruel and unkind? I’m a busy mother, for crying out loud!

I phoned my significant other, exasperated. I raged and I raged until my voice started to crack and I broke down in tears. Go get your hair cut, was the reply I got.

Naturally, I hung up.

And the pathetic being that I am, I cried myself to sleep. And that’s pretty much how I spent my me time that day. Why didn’t I do something fun for a change?

We’ll get to that.

I Can Hardly Remember Who I Used to Be

Is this what an empty nest syndrome feels like, multiplied by the number of years you’ve spent with your kids? The level of energy you put in? All the nights you spent wide awake? All the emotions?

I was sitting there at my kitchen table an hour later, feeling all alone.

Sure, I was alone before when I had to run some errands, but I had nothing to do now. Except for the dishes. And the laundry.

Maybe check on my Robbie and Steve? That she-devil is probably going to feed them chocolate and ice cream and  I’ll be the witch in their eyes!

I’ll get my hair done, I thought.

And I remembered “The Hours” and Julianne Moor’s famous “I’m going to make a cake. That’s what I am going to do” quote, just a couple of hours before she headed to an empty motel room, contemplating suicide.

 Is this all there is?

I am not sure who I am anymore. Except for Robbie’s and Steve’s mom.

What else?

OK, now I’m freaking out.

Can’t Remember the Last Time I Went Out

The last time I, no – we, went out was to the movies. We went all together, to see “Abominable”. I had to use the toilet and had to bring Robbie along and I’m sure I had never heard a louder sound than him screaming “Mummy, are you pooping?” in the crowded restroom. I love this little kid but he can be such an embarrassing brat.

Before that, I can’t really remember. My most vivid memories are of the parties I went to with my girlfriends.

I have never been a social queen, but I knew how to get myself all dressed up, and enjoy. I loved to dance the night away, I loved to wear my powerful high-heels and feel all attractive and feminine.

And I loved to flirt.

And now? I’m done flirting, at least currently. And I have no idea where my high-heels are. The last time I saw them they were on Robbie’s feet. A brat, I tell you.

I Hardly See My Friends Anymore

As for my girlfriends, I hardly see them anymore.

Marie got married and moved away, and we’ve been trying to have a Skype coffee for quite a while now.

Like in a quite a few months. The last time she emailed me she wrote that they were considering separation. I never had time to follow up with her.

And for the others, I don’t know what happened. The last time I checked, they still had no kids.

I honestly love them, but we don’t share the same lifestyle anymore, and we don’t have much to talk about.

Jane phoned me the other day to check whether I’d like to go for a run, but it’s almost impossible to have a decent phone call with two four-year-olds interrupting you every other minute.

I do socialize quite enough, though. I have coffees with other moms, and some of them I actually like.

But I miss running.

Running was the next best thing after sex for me.

I miss Jane too.

Am I going to become a momzilla?

Can’t Remember the Last Time I Had Sex

And I miss sex.

 I can’t remember when was the last time I had it, not to mention primal, passionate sex that I miss the most.

The last couple of times we actually had sex, it was more like we were doing it because we knew we should, and not because we lusted after each other.

I wanted to wear those high-heels the last time we were alone, my SO loves when I do. I find it hot too. Should I say I couldn’t find them?

So, how our passionate evening ended?

I was in my pajamas when he arrived. Barefoot, in bed, sleeping. With a copy of “How to Raise Kids and Still Have Time for Yourself” in my hands.

So sexy and inviting.

I’m Selfish

Me, me, me.

It’s all about me.

I am selfish as hell, I thought. No wonder my children think I am a witch. Remember that ice cream and chocolate my mom is going to buy them? Well, I want those too! I ate a pint of ice cream, just to lift my spirits.

Later on, I phoned Jane and we went out for a run.

You have to burn all those calories somehow, right?

And I remembered where to look for my high-heels. And I was right, of course – they were right under Robbie’s bed.

And I used them well.

Selfish or not, I felt good.

Not saying a lot has changed because it hasn’t. My haircut is still the same and I still haven’t dyed my hair. But I’m reaching out for myself. Not the one I used to be, as I’ve grown and changed. And not the mom person I dread to be, and I was about to become – a person without a life of her own, with her desires and needs ignored and forgotten.

I’ll take it one step at the time. A run, and then the next one. A night out, dancing. A night in, with my high-heels on.

I just need to schedule my next intervention with my mom.


Morgan Rose Elliott is an aromatherapist, yoga instructor, animal lover, a happily married mother of three. She enjoys reading biographies and writing poems, sunny days on the beach and any shape and form of vanilla. Crazy about the ’80s, her favorite band is Duran Duran (although kids prefer Franz Ferdinand, and the husband Blink182) and she is obsessed with Netflix original Stranger things.


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