I Am A Mom.

Driving has opened up a whole new world to me. Especially the world of mothers.

I run errands, I chauffer, I watch my little baby Maren try to swim as I sit beside the sweltering YMCA pool on the bleachers with the other moms. I cook a lot more than I used to, I have money to fill up the gas tank of the black minivan, more than once I've felt like I'm raising the whole family, my parents and all. The only thing I have to remind me that I'm a kid is the seven hour school day. But soon, I'll lose even that shred of childhood.

I did New Year's resolutions last night, because I do things on my own schedule. It was me and my journal, and we had a fantastic time. Then I decided to have an anthem of the year, and put my iGroove on shuffle, crossing my fingers.

Well, the first song was Track Down This Murderer from Phantom of the Opera. I think Fate was just messing with me there. But the second, my Anthem for 2010, was Somewhere Over the Rainbow by IZ. You know, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. That big, loveable Hawaiian guy with a uke. I thought it was funny. Mostly because I had just put up my Hawaiian calendar, I wrote the month in Hawaiian when I headed my journal entry ('Ianuali!), I was listening to IZ, then I woke up practically in the middle night and wrote down 6 possible names for my future children. Their middle names were mostly either Hawaiian or Japanese. I used my Tongan bookmark after I read my scriptures.

Then today, at the YMCA, I spotted a young blond mother, maybe similar to what I'll look like in 10 years, with 2 of her children, watching her son in his swim class. And I identified with her, until I studied her children. Now I need to watch my words here, because they'll probably come out sounding really offensive. But I stopped identifying with her when I noticed that all of her children were blond and white like she was. I won't say I was repulsed by her children, because they were adorable. But our connection faded after that. I liked the Asian kids that walked in a few minutes later better than I did her kids.

I don't think I'll ever find white kids as cute as I once did. As my maternal instincts start to shift into gear, getting ready for the time when I'll have kids of my own, I shun the Caspers for a more friendly shade of brown. I love brown children. I will always love brown children. Whether they're Asian, Polynesian, Indian, African, Kiwi, or Native American (sorry if I've missed a brown demographic!) I will love them more than their white counterpart. It's a fact that I've come to accept, just like I've come to accept the yoke of growing up.

Don't worry. I know I'm racist. I'm OK with it. It's not overt, so I think that the rest of the population is OK with it, too.

So, in short, I am a mom. Mom-in-training. I think I'm just skipping the dating part in my head, the hard part, and skipping past the newly-wed portion, too, the learning how to live with a boy, and heading into children territory.

POST.BLOG. Have you heard the song Dreams by The Cranberries? That's my backup 2010 anthem. And I have an undying love for September by Earth, Wind, and Fire. It's one of those songs that I have to sing and dance along to, no matter how foul my mood is. It's also a great driving song.