Being a mom has made me so much weirder than I already was.

Alright, that may not be entirely true. I was already “weird” in what I deemed to be safe environments, and I define weird as acting goofy and having little time for caring about others’ opinions. That definition isn’t exact, and after reading it, you probably notice that I think being weird is a really good thing because I equate it with confidence. (This whole thing is about confidence.)

The evolution was slow but noticeable. It started with feeling like I needed to be constantly speaking or singing to my first child for his language development, so I’d be in Target or wherever (I mean, really, it was always Target) singing or talking to an infant who could not converse with me, which just flipped a mental switch, really. Then the infant got older and could talk to me, but conversation was still pretty heavily on me to keep things entertaining. I would be pointing things out or asking questions like, Oh yeah? Why did the dog say that? Or whatever response was appropriate to toddler ramblings. Now I have a child who can converse, and it’s glorious. It is also super fun to sing out loud in the grocery store to embarrass him. He’s only 4, but he understands that adults do not generally sing aloud in the grocery store. I love this and already can’t wait until he’s 13 and has crushes.

I’m finally starting to realize that what other people think of me doesn’t matter that much. I’ve been trying to tell myself this and convince myself of it my whole life up to this point, but it was becoming a mom that really drove the point home. It’s not that I don’t care about other people. I didn’t suddenly stop wanting to have friends or stop wanting people to have a high opinion of me. It’s just that being a mom put it in perspective. It probably helps that I’m trying to teach other small humans about being confident in themselves, so I really needed to start practicing what I preached.

The perspective that being a mom granted was that I finally, FINALLY realized that people care about me SO MUCH LESS than I care about myself. This is especially true of strangers. Most of the time, strangers just don’t care. Or they see someone doing something silly or “weird,” take note for a moment, then carry on with their day. This is not a bad thing! It’s reality! I remember learning in an adolescent psychology class that I took a million years ago that it is part of teenage brain development to believe the world is watching them all the time. I don’t remember the evolutionary benefit to this (development of self-awareness? learning how one fits into society? probably something like that), but I think a lot of people, myself included, didn’t outgrow that stage completely. Don’t even get me started on social media and how much this is changing teenage brain development. Now, the world really IS watching at all times. Good lord.

I want my sons to be themselves and be confident in who they are, not constantly looking over their shoulders at what other people think of them. If I want them to behave this way, I need to model it. It wasn’t a conscious decision at first, more like a gradual realization, but now I see it and am more intentional about being weird. If you see me in the grocery store, I’ll probably be singing holiday music or talking to myself under my mask. See you there!