One of the many other changes I’ve been attempting to wrap my mind around while preg has been:

Me, as a parent. Considering I still don’t even feel like a real, legit adult, this one is nothing short of a major mind F for me.

We all have our own ideas of what parents are, and who they should be — what they look like, how they act. What they do. I remember in middle school, I became friends with Melissa Candreva, who had the most glamorous mother ever. To date.

She took my breath away. Every time I saw her, she looked like she had stepped off the cover of Vogue. For this very non-looking frumpy housewife reason, she always puzzled me as a mother. I just couldn’t put the two of them together. That she could look so chic at all times and shop like nobody’s business and be mom.

Up until that point, mom’s had been so much more … Mary Engelbreit, if you will. Not standing on the soccer sidelines in stilettos. Mrs. C really shook shit up for me. She was the first person who made me challenge my belief systems of what a mom is.

Now that it’s me taking on the role of Mother, I’m once again faced with my beliefs. For example, I don’t really cook. Is that weird? Am I going to have to start cooking? But why cook when I have TC I pay each month to cook for us? It’s a beautiful thing, People. He’s a really great cook and my goodness, the time it saves!

Anyway. I’m just trying to come to terms with me now as mom. I suppose like with anything, even being a mother, really means me just being … me. Really now. It’s not like I’m suddenly going to insta change and morph into an entirely new person.

I’m seeing more and more clearly the importance of everyone just being who they are — no comparisons, no worrying … just focusing on ourselves and doing the best we can with who and what we are.

Taking this approach makes me feel so much better. It’s less confusing. It’s not an either/or. It’s The All.