The Queen's Chair: I Am Somebody's Mom

My days of just being Marsha Jones have long been gone. When I became a wife;. I had a new identity. After the birth of my first child, I was now somebody's mama. It was a shock to my system. I thought my identity would stay the same but it evolved. No one cared that I was a working journalist or curated black/ women's film festivals. When I walked into my daughters's schools or daycare, all that mattered was I was someone's mom.

At home, I'm mom plain and simple. So trying to bring work here and complete at home. Doesn't work for my girls. Marsha who? Working via phone? That's a no-no. They expect 24-7 access to me. They've made that fact known.

My life now consists of wearing different hats, but the mommy one comes first. I plan events, go on field trips, help out in their respective classrooms and make it back in time to attend a late meeting. If they forgot something at home, I now found myself delivering it (whatever it was: musical instruments, permission slips, birthday cake cookies, sneakers and art projects) to the front office and made sure they got it.

My daughters's friends didn't see me, the professional, but saw me as their mommy. They compared our eyes, hair, and facial features. Even our voices. I would get the determination if we looked like mother and daughter. My last evaluation by my daughter's friend: she thought I was funny and cool. She liked my sense of humor.

I don't mind this ritual, my daughters's do. I've worked long and hard on my identity when it comes to my career. I'm putting as much effort into raising two smart and responsible children. Being know as someone's mama: that's a beautiful thing.