Okay, so none of these kids are biologically mine. What's your point? If I have ever called you "one of my kids," that means that I love you, want to protect you, care what happens to you, will support you, and will always be there for you no matter what. If I have called you "one of my kids" I love you as if you were biologically my child.
There have been a significant number of people asking me what I am going to do with the rest of my life, lately. As I've mentioned in previous posts, I tell them that I'm working to pay off my student loans right now. After that, I'm not exactly sure what I will be doing. (But I know that I don't want to stay in my current job long term. Eek!) With a quizzical look on their faces, these people then ask me what my long term career goals are. Knowing that they will not like (and usually not approve of) my answer, I reluctantly answer that I do not have any career goals. The only thing I've ever wanted was to be a Momma. I just want to have children and take care of them. Whether I adopt or have children of my own, I just want to be a Mom.
I've always felt this way. As long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a Momma and take care of kids. I started taking care of my little brother when he was born, and things just sort of took off from there. He was my Bubba, and I felt like it was my job to take care of him. I consider him one of my kids. I didn't call him that until we were both older, but he was my first kid.
You know how elementary schools have career day where students are allowed to dress up in a costume that represents their career of choice? Well, one year I dressed up in my version of a Mom costume: my hair was covered with a bandana, I was wearing overalls with a hammer hanging out of one pocket and a roll of duct tape in the other, I carried around a hamper of dirty clothes, and had a babydoll on my hips with her favorite storybook. That seemed like the best job ever!
I got a little older (middle and high school aged) and realized that I didn't have any real friends my age; there were students a few years younger than me that would talk to me, and solicited advice. I did my best to help them with their problems, I stood up for them, I cared for them when everyone else had abandoned them. On a field trip my sophomore year of high school, one of my kids stated that I was a better Momma than her own mother. She then started calling me Momma Katelyn (Momma K for short), and the name has stuck! Dozens of high schools kids and college students have called me Momma K and come to me for support when it seemed like their world was crumbling at their feet. In my personal Momma style, I gave them a hug and a juicebox when one was available (because who doesn't feel better after drinking a juicebox?!); I listened to them vent, offered pointers of what I might do in a similar situation, but more than anything, I was there when they really needed me. No matter what was happening in my life, or what sort of catastrophe they had going on, they knew that I would always be there for them.
In college, I was never a Resident Assistant (RA), but there were a lot of students who came to me when they were having problems. Whether it was relationship issues, they couldn't find time to study (or just couldn't understand the material), financial trouble, how to get along with their roommate, medical troubles, or something as simple as which professor to take for a certain class, these college kids came to me for help with their problems. They even called me Momma K. (There were people who didn't know my real name because I had been introduced to them as Momma K. haha.) Students from other residence halls would come see me while I was at work because they felt more comfortable talking to me than they did talking with their own RA. They only major thing I can tell you that I did was care: I showed each one of them that I genuinely cared about their problems and what was going on in their lives.
This past summer, I had the wonderful opportunity to work for a terrific program, Upward Bound. (For more information, feel free to visit http://www.upwardbound.eku.edu/) In this program, I had my own designated family (the girls I was supposed to chaperone), but 90% of the students ended up calling me Momma. Even though I wasn't the head of their family, they all knew that I would help them with anything they needed: homework, boy/girl problems, having a hard time fitting in. It didn't matter. I was always there for them. I loved each and every one of them. I was really humbled when at the Awards Banquet at the end of the year, the students gave me the "Number One Mom Award." A lot of you might scoff at this award, but this is one of the most touching moments of recognition I've ever had. To have a group of 100 high school aged students decide I was a positive influence on their lives, and to realize that I love them like a mother would her own children is a major deal to me. To have a group of students who come from broken homes where they aren't able to see their own mother for one reason or another, and for them to tell me that I was "a better mother than they could have ever dreamed of" only cemented the fact that I want to be a momma. I want kids, all kids, to know that there is someone out there who loves them and is willing to put in the effort to take care of them. I want to be that person.
Over the years, I've had to explain to family members why people kept calling me Momma K. I told them I look out for them, I help them out, I take care of them, and I generally act like a Momma (or at least a Big Sister.) Some people just laugh this away; others look at me with the squinty-eyed "Okay....." look. There are even a few who have mocked me for being called Momma K and for "trying to save the planet one kid at a time." While it hurts that they don't understand (or more simply just don't support) that I want to be a Momma, I know that it is what I'm meant to do. Being a Momma is the only thing I have ever been really good at. I made excellent grades in high school and through college, and I earned my Bachelor's degree in four years, but I worked really hard for both of those. In the post "I'm Gonna Keep on Singing My Song" I told about all of my musical experiences and talents; however, I spent years working on each of those before I was good. But I don't have to work at caring for people. I don't have to try to love these kids. I don't struggle to make a positive impact on the lives of these students. I don't have to work at being a Momma.
Maybe this post is just me being touchy about other people's opinions. Maybe I'm just trying to justify my life choices to myself. Maybe I'm just fed up with people looking on down on me when I tell them that I simply want to be a Momma. That I ENJOY being a Momma. (Of course, it doesn't help my case when I tell people that I don't yet have children of my own.) When I imagine my life 10 years, 20 years, 30 years down the road, I picture myself with lots of children. Massive family reunions, great big holiday get-togethers, birthday parties with the entire family. I see playing with my kids in the snow, teaching them how to swim without arm floaties, raking leaves into piles and jumping into them, helping them learn to drive a car, hugging them through their first heartbreak (and second, and third, and fourth heartbreak), graduation, weddings. The whole nine yards. I want it all. I want the whole messy, loud, chaotic, surprising, silly, beautiful, giggly, wonderful experience of having children and being a Momma. That's all I want.
As always, give me a shout and let me know what you think of my Momma-to-be dreams.
This is a picture of me and a few of my girls. I love them to death! (If you'll notice the sign at the left, it says, "Help the quail chick find its mother!" Coincidence? I don't think so....)
“Being a mother is an attitude, not a biological relation.”
― Robert A. Heinlein, Have Space Suit—Will Travel
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