Monday, May 9, 2011

Identity Crisis

Last night I stopped into Chipotle after church. As church ended (we go to an evening service here) I looked at Aar and said ..."Chinese food?" And he gave me this goofy look like...who are you kidding? We had missed our weekly Chipotle Night on Thursday because my throat was wanting soup that night. So I went to pick up our signature three-soft-tacos for Aar and burrito-bowl for me.

When I got up to the lovely lady that was going to make our yummy pseudo-Mexican feast, the first thing she said to me was, "are you a Mom?" I was nervously puzzled for a split second before I remembered that it was Mother's Day. Once I stopped double-checking that my single chin hadn't turned into a double chin, and once I stopped judging her for her over-enthusiasm, I said "nope, not yet." She was sweet though, and asked if I had a puppy. I said yes, and she wished me a Happy Mother's Day.

I could've told her that we have a strict no-referring-to-our-dog-as-our-son rule at the Baer house, but I'm trying to work know, my general sourness, so I left it alone.

But I threw a little fit in my head while I watched this bouncy woman put pico de gallo on my mountain of barbacoa. (Now I'm hungry.) No, I'm not a Mom. No, I don't eat only organic. No, I don't paint or sketch or, I don't know, do pencil drawings. I don't do graphic design, I don't have my own super hipster photography business with my own totally original website. I generally don't do Yoga on mountaintops on Saturday mornings and I don't create my own jewelry. I'm not visiting 11 countries in 12 months and I'm not in Africa holding orphan babies. I'm not in Nashville giving myself a go at being a starving musician or clothing designer or poetry writer or coffee barista with my lip pierced. I'm not thinking of starting my own church or painting a mural downtown. No, I'm not a Mom.

But that's ok, right? Don't I still have something worth saying?

You know, after the Last Supper, when Jesus was trying to be plain as day to his buds about all the crap that was about to rain down, they started this ridiculous argument about which of them was the greatest. (I feel embarrassed for them even typing it.) It's bewildering, though, ridiculous as that sentiment was, how forceful it can be.


  1. Maria. I LOVE YOU. Thank you for saying everything I feel sometimes. Especially in this town. I watch Internet TV and don't make art. I crush McDonald's french fries. Sometimes I really feel like I don't belong.

    Also. This post made me think of this tumblr that I lurve:

    Not going to lie, I once went back alll the way to the beginning and read it from the start. It is all about a cute hipster mom and her super adorbs daughter and the Air Force dad and designer cat, so it stabs at my insecurities, you know, all the time, but the little girl is so damn cute. The tumblr is next to your blog in my reading list... hope you don't mind, haha.


  2. Oh, Mere. I love you too. Your comment makes me bewildered, though, because you have always seemed to me to be this absolutely unattainable standard of "cool," especially in Athens. And I think it's BECAUSE you love french fries.