Invisibility

If you're a mom, you know me.

I'm the mom at your kid's lesson who is dressed a bit kooky - maybe tie-dyed tee, perhaps a bandana on my wild hair - and definitely sandals or skull-infused vans on my wee feet. I'm the one in the corner, head buried in a book or journal.

My kids are in the lesson too. You know them, cheerful and attentive, they are hard to miss. You know I treat them gently and with humor, and that we usually arrive on time, and that I hardly ever appear flustered.

It's easy for me to be like this.

Easy even when we are running late late late and have left half of the necessary equipment at home.

Easy even when the boy is raising hell and the girl is sulking.

Easy even when it is hard.

It's easy for me for one reason - because this hour of this day of the week is important to me, it is vital to me, it is indeed sacred to my very existence.

THIS is my invisible time.

Invisibility is something I discovered when my oldest was young and my youngest was strapped to my breast. I discovered, I supposed due to my somewhat odd appearance, that many of the typical moms at a certain dance studio were able to disregard my very existence - completely - while we watched our 3-year-old daughters dance.

Insulted at first, I set about finding loud things to do with the baby in order to be noticed. The others looked up from their conversations, judged from across the room, and I guess decided that I was indeed NOT THERE - invisible.

It could have been an identity crisis of epic proportions. I was lonely, and tired, and adjusting to being mom-to-two... why didn't they like me? Would I need to change to fit in and have more friends or could I just be myself and move on? Could I stand the lonliness for one second longer?

The baby coo-ed and slept, and I decided not to fret about things but instead to go with my philosophy of "at first sight".

I chose my university at first sight.

I fell in love with my soulmate at first sight.

I bought two houses at first sight.

Both the children owned my heart at first sight.

And with all of my closest friends, I've had chemistry at first sight.

How could I deny this philosophy's mystery?

So I steadied myself and remained who I was. I settleed the baby in and shrank invisibly into the corner. And then, mysteriously, on a second look, a mom saw me, approached and introduced herself, and *poof* became my best friend - and by my side she still remains.

I've remained who I was - and who I am is the invisible one at your kid's lesson. Yes, I look odd - and guess what? I AM odd, but so are you. And guess what else? I have lots of love and friendship to go around, just as you do.

What am I doing? I'm reading or writing, playing a game on the phone or doing a crossword. Sometimes my mind is just really far away, thinking and making lists.

Say hello if you see me, I won't mind, but please understand if I don't make amazing conversation and drift back to whatever I was doing. My mind thrives on this time. But you never know, we might be sisters at first sight.

And why is this hour so important to me? Because it is time - time being somewhere FOR my kids (not because of them). Time alone (sorta) with myself. Time to do nothing - really. It is mental health time. It is mysterious time. This is my invisible time.