Contemporary identity theorists disagree on a lot of semantics, but they generally all point the same direction: we are all composed of many selves. This dependence on context and reciprocal relationships on determining whether we embody the identity of "the fun-loving one" or "the responsible serious one" during a single moment completely debunks the notion that, sometime around adolescence, we mystically find our inherent "selves" and stay static in our commitment to that simple formula. Instead, our entire lives involve a negotiation of who we decide to become in each circumstance, created by a unique dynamic of the roles the others we happen to around decide to adopt. Who I am, then, results from a complex, performative dance, rather than a self I happen to discover when I am sixteen.
Similarly, nueroscientists have been having fun in recent decades discovering how flexibile our plastic brains really are, during our entire lives. It turns out that all of the pathways aren't made and set in stone by a certain age as previously thought. Instead, every year, every experience and habit contributes to shape our amazing brains.
These two fascinating fields beg the question: Who am I when I am a mother? In other words, what surprising things about myself have emerged from my interactions with my son, daughter, and spouse? And how has my brain had to adapt to this emerging self? Here's what I've got so far:
**Shocker #1: I am the GOOD cop. I always assumed (most likely because I grew up in a home where Mom was the tough one and Dad was the push-over) that I would have to be the consistent disciplinarian. It turns out, around my kids, I tend to play the good guy role. This was nothing that Justin and I worked out (and he often gets frustrated that he finds himself in the role of strict enforcer), but it is the dynamic our family has naturally fallen into.
**Shocker #2: I'm totally casual about my kids. I've met enough parents to know that I am WAY LESS concerned about pacifiers that have fallen on the floor, germs on public tables, stains on shirts, or toddler attempts at dangerous park antics than the average bear. In fact, in comparison to most parents I know, I verge or irresponsible. This is strange when I consider how much I love my children, how cautious my own mother was with me, and how type A and responsible I tend to be in daily life.
**Shocker #3: Too much noise or stimulation drives me crazy. Ever since I became a sleep-deprived mother who is generally multi-tasking with 3-4 things (talking on the phone while making lunch and stuffing a pacifier in my infant who I am wearing on a sling), I have become an old lady about noise. Just having the TV on as background noise can push me over the edge.
**Shocker #4: I love LOVE being alone. Whenever I would take those personality tests in TEEN magazines I would always score high as an extrovert, someone who needed to be around people to get energy from. Now I find social occassions with grown-ups draining (my face actually starts to hurt from smiling), and I can't imagine a better hour than one spent taking a run on my own into the sunset or reading a book without interruption.
*Shocker #5: When it comes to my kids, I am the world's worst teacher. You would think, since I'm getting my PhD in education and all, that I would be hyper-attentive in applying all I know about how kids learn on my own children. Instead, I find myself sitting back on the education front (Lucy will learn her letters eventually, right; no hurry!) constantly commenting to my nurse-husband, "WOW- you are totally making this a learning opportunity" as he points out maps, teaches new vocabulary in authentic moments, etc, etc.
Enough of me, myself, and I. In teacher education talk, we speak about the continual process of "becoming a teacher." There is no single moment defined by reaching this destination, by suddenly feeling like you are a professional in the field. Instead, there is a gradual moving journey. In the same way, I plan on always be working towards "becoming" a mother. After all, a three year old and infant need a pretty different mother than two teenagers.
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