The other day when I was checking out at the grocery store, the cashier asked me how old my son was. We then chatted about the joys and exhaustion of raising a boy.
But as I walked out of the store, I started wondering how she knew I was a mom. The kids were at school, and I was only picking up a gallon of milk, so I didn’t even have juice boxes or fruit snacks in my cart as a dead giveaway.
Then I saw my arm and realized I was wearing a Star Wars bandage. And only a mom would have such a bandage in the house, much less wear it out in public without a second thought.
But it got me thinking that no matter what I am doing or who is with me, the clues that I am a mom are pretty obvious. My minivan floor is typically covered in a blanket of goldfish crackers, and the seat is full of children’s books. Almost any time I go to pull out a pen, I accidently get a crayon, LEGO piece or even a kid’s sock that somehow got stashed in my purse. And I really hope that anyone who has noticed my multicolored neon pedicure in the past few weeks has known it was the handiwork of a 10-year-old girl.
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While my pre-kid self would cringe, these days when someone points out that I am wearing a princess hair band, I have to say that I now just smile.