Maya’s Mom

Since I live in California, I am contractually obligated to take a yoga class, so I do. I don’t want to fall behind on my committments, and then have to pay some fine or something. Well, I’ve been taking yoga for almost 2 years now, just once a week, and I love it. Thursday night is my favorite night of the week. My teacher not only gets us all bendy and twisty, she teaches us some pretty cool stuff about the philosophies of yoga. I’ve taken yoga before, at the gym, and none of the other classes I’ve taken actually take 10 minutes at the beginning of class to talk to us about our intentions, or about trying to let go of certain unhealthy behaviors, or about the many different levels of consciousness. It’s great. I love it. And I come home so relaxed, so happy. All this, without even a glass of wine! It’s amazing.

Anyway, a few Thursdays ago, I said something to my teacher before class about my daughter, and she looked at me, surprised, and said, “I didn’t know you had a daughter!” Can I tell you how much this shook me? I thought I went around with a flashing light on my forehead that said, “MAYA’S MOM!!!” I mean, being a parent has changed me so fundimentally, so much more than anything else I have done, that I just ASSUMED that everyone knew with a glance, “Oh, that’s Julie. She’s Maya’s mom.” It’s not by any means ALL that I am. I am many things besides Maya’s mom. I am a friend, a wife, a worker bee, a person who loves to read and listen to NPR and take walks in the rain. I am a person who likes to think about important issues like politics and human rights, but doesn’t really enjoy discussing them. I still like horses, and I like to read childrens books. I don’t like brussels sprouts, and I hate George Bush. I like to notice the sunrise in the morning, and the way that the oak trees look when they don’t have any leaves. I don’t live close to my family, which hurts almost every day. I like ballet movies, and stupid comedies, and independent films, and the occasional blockbuster. I like to swim. I love dogs, but not as much as my husband does. (He loves them all, I think). I am happily married, and I understand what a gift that is. I am me. But I am also, Maya’s Mom. Shocking that she didn’t see that about me. What else doesn’t the world know, I wonder?