My name is Kristina and I think I may have regressed into a want-to-be-popular-aholic. I’m 37…not 13 and it’s been on my mind a lot lately.

My high school experience was less than awesome. I was awkward. I had enormous glasses. I had ENORMOUS hair. When attempts to fit in were thwarted, I found my own group of misfits. It worked for me. I got to stay quirky. I never really had the chance to conform. I think it served me in being pretty ok in my own skin as an adult and I’m grateful it worked out that way. My adult life has been the best time in my life, I’m unapologetic about who I am (though generally apologetic about what I say), and hopefully I’m prepared to guide my kids through those challenges if they have them. If by some miracle my kid’s aren’t awkward, I hope to show them that being friends with everyone is the coolest thing you can do.

But as I embark on the second year of preschool for my son, and the pool of moms and kids gets bigger and more inter-connected, I can feel myself revert into an adolescent desire to be well-liked. It bums me out because ironically, there has never been a more important time to be steadfast and certain of myself. Uncompromising. There are four little eyes on me. Watching how I respond. What I say. Am I true to myself? Am I true to my standards for them? Or am I trying to be liked? And it will only get worse, people. Come on, it’s preschool. And if I allow myself to compromise to be liked, and that desire trumps my convictions now, who will I be when they’re in high school?

I can only pray that I do them the service of seeing “me” be “me” no matter who’s in the room. I hope I’m unwavering in my parenting. I hope I walk the talk and show them that trying to please others is a fruitless path. If you betray yourself, you’ll lose doubly. It won’t earn you respect and then you dilute the awesome of your own uniqueness. The worst thing I could ever teach my kids is to be disingenuous to themselves at the crossroad of acceptance. And of course, the irony is that no other mom cares what I am or am not doing, what I wear, what I say. No mom is spending hours asking herself, “do I like her?”. It’s just a self-imposed fear of being disliked. My Mom has always said, “the most narcissistic mistake you can make is to think that other people are thinking about you” and since she’s always right, I’m sure the application of that statement to this situation is apropos.

So if you’re my friend and you see me pretending I care about Sno-King Soccer or T-ball, acting interested in the Shoreline City Council, pretending I have Soren in Spanish and Dance for enrichment rather than the extra 1/2 hour it buys me to run errands, if you see me doing my hair just for drop-off, trading in my sweats for a sweater set or generally acting like I have ANYTHING all together, please put me in check. I’m a loud, haphazard, crazy-hair-having mama of two. I love them and God and my family. Just a say-too-much train wreck whose probably not destined for the PTA. If you’re my friend, please don’t let me forget it. Don’t let me forget that who I am AS a Mom is infinitely more important than who I am TO a Mom.