It’s funny. They tell you that you’ll change when you have a kid. I was always like, “Duh. Of course you’ll change. You’re a parent. How could you not?”

But really, I had no idea just how much changes. As in, parts of you become unrecognizable (and I’m not even talking about the stretch marks and loose skin).

The me I was before I was a mom completely shifted. The spontaneous, laid-back, adventure seeker I used to be was bound, gagged and stowed away. I am now a planner, a worrier and an example-maker. I am someone’s mom.

I’m kind of lame. And to be honest, I’m really not OK with being lame, even if that means I’m a good mom.

I’m mournful for the person I once was. No longer am I the girl who climbs slippery trees and leaps into the river while on canoe trips. I don’t spend hours wandering Target alone just because I have nothing to do that day. I no longer have the biggest potty mouth of my friends and freely throw out every opinion that pops into my head. Gone are the days when I get lost in a book for hours on end.

There are no more impromptu craft projects that turn our house into a wreck. I even cut off a toxic friendship in the name of setting an example for my daughter.

My preferences and wishes are now second to two tiny people who need me. Who are watching me. Who are learning so much about how to live in this world … from me.

It’s a terrifying role to be in. Especially so because these are the two people I love most in the world and want to turn out the most unscrewed-up.

And as much as I love these girls and love being their mother, there are days when I mourn the old me. I miss my carefree days and the adventurous person I was. The longer I’m in this new role, I realize that there’s no way I can ever go back to being that person.

Yes, I’ll be able to read more books and go to Target alone when the girls are older, but I’ll never feel completely OK climbing that slippery tree over a Missouri river. What if I fell and broke my neck?

I won’t ever feel pure excitement at the idea of an impromptu road trip. What activities do the girls have going on? I don’t even think of myself as me most of the time. To me, I’m HJ and B’s mom. That’s who I am. And to me, it’s one of the hardest parts of being a mom.

To live mostly for the benefit of someone else is a hard transition to make even if it’s done out of love.

I love being a mom, but I hated losing “me.”

Things turned around for me when I signed up for a weekly ladies’ night group a few months ago. With each outing, I saw that old me creep back in, even if it was just for an hour or so. I wasn’t there to be someone’s mom and it was an activity that was just mine.

No one needed snot sucked out of their nostril. No one needed a drink refill. It was just a group of other gals who wanted nothing from me, but for me to just be me. It was insanely therapeutic.

That’s when I finally understood why so many of my mom friends now run marathons, start selling Mary Kay, post picture after picture of every friggin’ meal they cook and dabble in photography. That’s their temporary escape and time to just get to be themselves. It’s where they are able to shed the “just a mom” persona and be nothing more than themselves. It’s their “me” thing. Everyone else just figured it out before me. (I’m usually the last to know most things.)

So while I may not still get to be the wild and adventurous girl I was when I didn’t have my own spawn, I’m enjoying this new period of self-discovery. On the docket this summer is a sewing workshop, a pie-making group, and a painting night.

Watch out, Lawrence. Things are gettin’ serious.

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