So the thing is… I’ve been thinking about business cards.

My husband committed the unpardonable sin of calling me an “athlete” last week and it really got me thinking.  He was giving me a little talking to about my Low Blood Sugar which had caused me to start barking at all the people I love best and he made the mistake of saying “You’re an athlete and you need to be conscious of getting enough fuel.”  My Epic Low Blood Sugar Moments are usually accompanied by Epic Oppositional Reflex (you know, where someone says, “The sun sure is hot today.” and I, dripping sweat, say, “It is NOT.”) so I snapped, “I am NOT an athlete.”  He looked at me.  “Okay, so how do YOU define athlete?”

“Someone who is training for some athletic event… I mean, someone for whom training is an overwhelming priority in his or her life.  Someone who gets PAID to exercise?  Someone who doesn’t jiggle?  Well, I don’t know exactly, but I’m not one.  I know one when I see one but I’m not one.”

“Hmm,” said my husband.  Which is exactly the same thing he said during another argue—er –discussion when I tried to postulate that amphibians lost the ability to breathe under water at some point in their lives.  (Had some oppositional reflex going on that day, too.)  Anyway, I would have argu—er—discussed this with him further, but I was late for my running class… (Hmm.)

So, I had a snack and went to class and I started wondering what I AM, exactly.  And I realized that all the ways I describe myself have to do with my relationships with other people.  Wife.  Mother.  Daughter.  Sister.  (Cat Chaser.)  But what about outside of those relationships?  Who am I now when I’m alone?  (Hey, come to think of it, when was the last time I even WAS alone?)

You know what I realized?  Well, for starters, I tend to sort of downplay what I do all day.  It’s strange, I feel like I’m doing such an important thing as a mom and I love it.  And yet the last time I ran into someone from my working days and she asked what I was doing, I said, as I have about a million times, “Just being a mom.” 

Just.

What kind of a message are my girls taking away from the fact that I describe myself as “just” a mom?  Why can’t I say, “I’m a stay-at-home mom.” with pride and gratitude?  Why am I a little sheepish about it? 

I don’t know.  It was easier when I was working.  It seems like it’s easier to define yourself when you’re working –except when you’re working as (just) a stay-at-home mother, I guess.

Anyway, I think it’s important to have an identity away from other people, even if your job is all about them.  A friend of mine, whose only child is starting all-day Kindergarten in about three weeks, is having a true crisis of identity.  Her child has been her sole focus for five years now, somewhat to the detriment of her SELF.  She has called me twice in the last week, crying.  What will she do with her days now that her child is away?  Who is she?  What is her passion? 

Suddenly, I had a vision of myself when my children start school.  After a while, surely lying around the pool drinking frozen drinks with little umbrellas in them would start to get old, right?  Heck, six or ten years down the road, I might even be a little bored.  I better think about what I’ll do with my time.  Who AM I?  What is my passion?

Wouldn’t it be interesting if people had to hand out business cards –wait, I mean PERSONAL cards –that described us independently of our jobs?  No corporate or familial affiliations allowed.  But in a positive way.  I wouldn’t want to hand out a card that said “Barb Cooper, Unbearable During Low Blood Sugar Moments.  Please feed me a cracker.”  Actually, I had a lot of fun with this, thinking of all the ways I could describe what I do.

Chef.  Activity Director.  Chief of Sanitation.  Referee. Librarian. Diplomat. Mental Health Counselor.  Doctor.  Nurse.  Dental Technician.  Accountant.  Judge. Purchasing Agent.  Social Secretary. Chief Financial Officer.  Chauffeur.  Coach.   Dietician. Spy.  Interpreter.  Lifeguard.  And let’s not forget Laundress –if I was Empress of the Universe, I’d still be doing laundry.

My friend Marianne said that she thought we should have to come up with our titles independent of work OR family.  She took about three seconds to announce that her title would be “Food Lover.”  So, then I went off on THAT tangent.  Barb Cooper, Wine Drinker.  Barb Cooper, Gummy Bear Expert.  Barb Cooper, Born-again Napper.

I do think Marianne is onto something. I think we need to define our passions so that when our lives change, we realize that our fundamental selves and our fundamental interests stay the same.  I realize that there is life after raising children and I hope that I will not have lost myself so much doing that job that I forget how to live my own life.   We moms need passions outside of our children –it’s healthy for us and it’s healthy for our kids to see us approaching all of our interests with a sense of balance.

I don’t know what my personal cards would say if I had to narrow it down.  I think women with small children have an especially hard time thinking in terms of who we are outside of our kids because so much of our daily routine is devoted to the real physical reality of caring for them.  But the good news is, we evolve and grow as our kids do.    So, I guess my card might read something like this: Barb Cooper: Writer, Athlete, and One Heck of a Margarita Maker. 

And, in tiny letters, it might say: “In the event of Low Blood Sugar, this card doubles as a cracker.”

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(c) Barbara Cooper 2002

Barbara Cooper is the mother of Ana (4) and Jane (21 months).  She lives in Austin, Texas and she left her job as Empress of the Universe to stay home with her children.