Dear Childless Person in My Life,

Believe it or not, there was a time when I was probably what you would consider "fun." Maybe even "cool." 

I had no responsibilities outside of work or school, no babysitters on the clock, no time-stealing Ankle Biters holding my interests ransom. 

And I had interests, by the way, in that galaxy far, far away. I liked punk music and sketching and videogames and cafes with artwork on the walls. I loved spontaneous road trips and all-night movie marathons and vintage clothing shops. I was great. 

Nay, I was amazing.

I was that girl who knew people, immensely enjoyed people, got out to see people.

And then I had kids.

Suddenly, I had traded videogames for Green Eggs and Ham, all-night movie marathons for all-night nursing marathons, and a great deal of my sketches ended up with Crayola marker stickmen all over them. (Not so washable on paper filled with hours of detailed penciling, by the way.) 

I did, occasionally, wear mom jeans and scrunchies. I have, on far more occasions, gone out without mascara - unless you count the stuff I didn't quite manage to entirely wash off my face from the day before. I gained a few pounds - okay, more than a few - and, without a bra, my boobs look like they had a threeway with a George Foreman Grill. 

Sometimes I look at you with envy. You, with your nicely styled hair and stretch mark-less tummy. You with your full social calendar and disposable income. You, with time to follow your interests with few interruptions.

You, with a life dedicated to you.

Sometimes I wonder how you look at me. Do you think I've thrown my life away to raise my kids? Do you think I'm boring? Do you think I could have been happier if I had simply put up a " NO SOLICITATION" sign in my uterus?

It's okay if you do. Sometimes I wonder those things too. Parenting has definitely changed me.

But here's the thing: It's supposed to. If becoming a mother hadn't moved the earth beneath my feet, if it hadn't caused such a profound emotional shift, that would be a problem. 

That would be like climbing Mount Everest and declaring it a nice little hike. 

It would mean I am taking the biggest, most challenging journey of my life and not growing from it. That's righteously messed up, yo. Anyone who says having kids shouldn't change you lacks serious perspective on the matter. And anyone who says parenting didn't change them is a liar or a sociopath or on some really great medication.

Has this journey consumed me? At times, yes. You can't be awake for the better part of three days with a teething child and not become a bit obsessive. You can't watch the person you now love more than anyone else in the world take their first steps and not announce it to the masses. 

I may have overshared about potty usage (theirs, not mine) and thought a scribble meant I was raising the next Picasso (I wasn't), but that's only because everything one's offspring does is amazing. Or hilarious. Or terrifying. Or enraging. It's always one of those things. There's no grey area with your own kids, and that means emotions are always running high. I hope you'll forgive me for talking about them more than we'd both like me to. It makes it seem like I don't care about anything else, that raising children is all I do.

It could appear that I'm stepping backwards in my personal development at times, but I promise you that's not the case. Believe it or not, mom jeans and scrunchies can actually signify growth. Okay, maybe not in the style department, but, in a roundabout way, in the confidence department. Mothering, despite the overwhelming body changes, has empowered me. It means that, if I really have to, I'll go out to the store in what I'd wear to the gym. I used to be too self-conscious to do that. These days, I don't care what anyone else thinks of me, I just care that my kids need snacks for their lunchboxes tomorrow. Unconditional love trumps eyeliner, period. That's cool, right? Totally punk rock of me. 

Know what else is cool? Asking me to go do things with you. I may not always be able to say yes - and even if I do, I may not always be able to stay out as late as I used to - but I will appreciate the invitation more than you could ever imagine. I don't take girls nights and dinner parties and movies for granted anymore. They're not an everyday occurrence and often take great pains to plan for, so you'd better believe I'll love every second of them. 

See, moms need to go out and socialize beyond park dates and playgroups, because it's a reminder that we're something beyond, well, moms. We need to do things for ourselves. We need to know it's okay to have a life outside our families without any guilt or worry. We need balance. And you, more than anyone, can inadvertently be the one to help us strike that balance.

The most important thing to know about me is this:  I'm not just a parent, but parenting has changed me. That's okay. Most of that change is good, it's just sometimes buried under stress, exhaustion, and bad clothing choices (all of which are improving with time). 

I'm still cool in my own way. I'm still amazingly great underneath the bad hair days and occasional 9 p.m. bedtime. I hope this open letter helps bridge any gap we might have. We're both women climbing Everest, we just took different trails. But that doesn't mean we can't meet at a base camp for some coffee (and oxygen) now and then. 

You do, however, have permission to burn any scrunchies you find and stage an immediate intervention*.

Fondly,

That Mom You Know

*Said intervention should likely include my loved ones. And cake. And firemen.