Last year I wrote about three things I've learned so far since having a kid. Here are four more. I feel obligated to point out that this is just me I'm talking about here, and that this is not a universal list along the lines of "You know you're a mom when..." or "18 things only parents understand." (I'm one of the 'good' ones, get it?)

4.) Moms of males are women just like I am.
There is no way to dress this up without making myself sound like an idiot, but before I had a boy, I secretly saw moms of only-boys as different from my girlfriends' moms. I felt slightly uneasy around them, like they were watching or viewing me differently than the moms of daughters did. Did you know that women who have boys are secretly just regular women who also used to be girls? Did you know that they did not spring into this world, fully-formed, as mothers-in-law? I'm sure this is going to continue to play out in new and interesting ways as Paul and my girlfriends' boys gets older (85% of my friends with kids had sons), so stay tuned for that.

5.) Motherhood is good for empathy, IE time to squash the beef.
Before I had Paul, I was holding onto a longstanding grudge against a friend, something partially-steeped in jealousy that I was sure I would never get over. "You'll be friends again after you both have kids," my therapist told me, which I did not believe. But damn if she wasn't right. Part of it is knowing that motherhood is hard: if I had a difficult time with the various advantages we have (childcare, an involved partner, parents nearby, first-world resources), then I couldn't assume that anybody else had it easy. No matter where you live or what kind of car you drive, we're all up to our elbows in poop, not-sleeping, frequently feeling frustrated. So that, coupled with a new perspective that allowed me to see that perhaps there was just my side to the story of this beef (I think that just came with age, not necessarily a kid), helped me get my head out of my ass.  My friend and I are friends again now (and my therapist has definitely gloated.)

6.) Nobody is looking at me that closely.
After I had Paul, a friend of mine asked me if I smiled knowingly at other women with strollers because I was now "one of them," but the opposite feeling sprang up for awhile. I didn't want to be one of them, because they were all just generic moms whereas I was still me, even if I couldn't exactly tell you why that was special. I know the premise that I was a totally unique, one-of-a-kind badass chick before I got married or had a kid is spurious to begin with, but for awhile, I did feel a little lost after I began my family. It was like the night that we took Paul to Zoo Lights and I realized all us parents looked exactly the same in the dark, all bundled up and pushing strollers. But I've come around on this, to realize that it's not only accurate to realize I'm more anonymous than I am in my own head, it can be a good thing, too. It's liberating. It means nobody is staring at me, demanding that I prove my relevance and achieve my current goals right this very second. I can figure things out slowly, which is good, because I need to. And also, it means I can dress like crap if I want to now and then because who really cares.

7.) Being direct is a good thing, and not that hard, either.
Saying things like "Will you pay me for this?" or "That plan doesn't work for me" or "It bothers me when this happens" is easier now than it used to be. The bandwidth I have for agonizing over whether somebody is mad at me or how to tackle something exactly the right way or how to cram too many inconvenient things into one day is significantly diminished. Also, see above: I don't need to overthink that stuff because I know now that people aren't staring at me, holding me up as this paragon of tact and agreeability, sobbing when I can't go along or show up or whatever.

Last time I ended on a sappy note, but I'm all tapped out on sap for the moment. But my kid is cute though, isn't he?