When did it happen that I became not Angie, not Josh’s girlfriend (or now wife), but Brianna’s Mommy? I have, until recently, had my own identity, my own job….and hey, Josh and I were the only ones with free access to my nipples.

But I’ve noticed a new trend when I see old friends, talk to my dad, get a phone call…everyone wants to know how Brianna’s doing. What she’s doing. Heck, they even want to know what she’s wearing. Run into someone you know in the mall and they immediately head for the baby and begin talking to her. This child who, being only three months old, is about as likely to start conversing back as I am to write a book (well, all things are possible so I needed to pick something that wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibilities!) I’m just the ornamental, purely decorative object holding her 🙂

And to top it all off, I’ve lost the rights to my purse (perfume has been replaced by diaper cream, lipstick and spare make-up by a zipper bag to hold the poopy clothes. Yeah that’ll come in handy on date night), I’ve lost all self-consciousness (well, most) about showing my boobs in public. Used to be I would only flash my boobs for beads at Fat Tuesday bars or for beer while tubing down the river in Arizona. Now you can get a free show any time Brianna wants. And we won’t even talk about who has the better wardrobe.

So, when did my identity morph? No one warned me when I got pregnant (even if that was an accident) that I might as well change MY birth certificate to read Brianna’s Mommy. I guess I’m just lucky I didn’t name her Gertrude. Or Petunia. Or Apple.

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