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Twin Cities Mom Collective

What My Orange Undies Taught Me

I was wearing orange underwear that day. No one should have known that except me.

What My Orange Undies Taught Me | Twin Cities Moms Blog

We were at the local gymnastics gym for a couple of hours of open play. At the time I had three kids five years old and under. After the long winter, we needed to get out and move our bodies. I remember going in, releasing the kids to play and proceeding to the viewing area where all the other moms were sitting, coffees in hand. Although donning athletic wear, it was evident the only calories burned would be from chatting and the occasional wave to acknowledge their child’s grand survival of the trampoline.

I was a little disappointed. I was hoping to join in the fun—move with my kids and live out my childhood dreams of being Mary Lou Retton, Shannon Miller, and Dominique Dawes. Instead, I was relegated to the sidelines with the rest of my kind.

“Mom! Come here! Come with me!” shouted my son.

Yes! I was in. I acted like it was no big deal—like I really didn’t want to go out there with all those….kids. Secretly, I was thrilled. We spent the next two hours running, bouncing, leaping, swinging, sweating and landing in the giant pit of foam bricks. It was awesome.

As I got my worn-out wonders wrestled into their car seats, something strangely colorful caught my attention. I thought maybe I sat in gum or inadvertently flattened a fruit snack, but it was much worse. I discovered a gaping and very noticeable hole in my pants. Furthermore, the dark grey of my athletic gear only accented the hue of the flaming orange underwear I had chosen that morning.

Oh. My. Word.

All I could think about was just how many of those polished, have-it-together, sedentary-and-social mamas I had flashed during those 120 minutes of high-flying fun. How mortifying. Of course, I instantly called one of my friends and confessed my show-it-all undergarment blunder.

“I should have just sat there and watched like all the other moms!” I wailed.

She immediately shot back, “No way! You could never do that! That’s just not the kind of mom you are!”

It’s funny how the simplest of conversations can bring such monumental insights. Here I was feeling like I did something wrong for joining my kids in play and this was my punishment—almost as if I’d broken some sort of unspoken mom-code that’s meant to keep me in line and uniformed with all the other moms.

But when my friend called me out for being “that kind of mom,” she meant it as a compliment. It felt like a compliment. And I love that she thought that about me because that IS the kind of mom I am and want to be.

I was asked this question recently: If you could go back in time and give your younger self some advice, what would it be? It was asked in the frame of motherhood but as I mulled it over, my answer reached far beyond mothering and into myself as a whole person. My response was this:

I would tell myself to stop worrying that I was doing it wrong.

What My Orange Undies Taught Me | Twin Cities Moms Blog

Oh, how many hours I wasted wondering, Am I doing this wrong? I must be doing this wrong. Doubts about my ability to understand my babies–to make the right decisions when they were sick or know how to dress them to be comfortable in the ever-changing weather. Finding myself uneasy and self-conscious about decision- making, career path (or lack thereof), stroller choice, wardrobe fashion, and the décor of my home. Feeling wrong for not liking to sew, being super-crafty or having the genetic predisposition to organize and alphabetize my linen closet in seconds. I didn’t look or feel like most other moms I knew, read about or saw in the media. I came to the conclusion that I must be doing it wrong.

Sadly, I spent too much of my life looking around, gauging my success by how I looked compared to everyone else. My orange undies taught me a different lesson. I am the “kind of mom” I want to be. I like to race my kids, make messes and go on every field trip. I want to know their friend’s names and have spontaneous dance parties at dinner-time. I want to buy a cake on the way home and eat it with our hands while watching the sunset, just because we can. I am far from perfect and still have growing to do, but I am unique. And I like that.

What kind of mom are you? How are you uniquely wired? What kind of mom—or even person–do you want to be? Maybe you are the mom who enjoys watching your kids play, taking it all in as your little pioneers forge their own way. Perhaps you have a gift for tidiness and find great joy in schedules and orderliness. Maybe you can sew anything, build anything, bake anything, and fix your own car. Be the mom you are meant to be. Be yourself.

I am not you. You are not me. You are unique and wonderful. You are perfectly capable to take care of these kiddos—these precious (and crazy) beings that were gifted, on purpose, to you.

So, do it your way.

Read less “How To” books.

Listen to your instincts.

Be your own “kind of mom.”

Oh, and always wear brightly colored underwear.

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