I drive a used minivan with sticky floorboards and a trunk full of random stuff.

I know all the Disney Jr. theme songs from 2012 to present day but a second-grader had to tell me who Marshmellow is.

I can easily rock the same leggings for an entire weekend.

Also, I wear my 'good pants' about two-inches higher waisted than I did at twenty-five.

I use room spray as perfume and wear a ball cap more than I style my hair.

I embarrass my kids dancing in toy aisles at Targets and making silly faces at restaurants.

I am 'that mom.'

And by 'that mom,' I mean the one I thought I'd never be because I was just way too cool.

Once, as a teenager, I told my mom I'd rather die than grow up to be the type of woman who read Good Housekeeping magazine. (Yes, I really said that!)

I now read it front to back.

At 18, I thought all the suburban moms pushing strollers were inauthentic and bored.

I was wrong.

Everything visible on the surface - the messy buns and diaper bags, the HGTV watching and Pinterest groups, the appointments and store lists - it's not what defines mom life.

My floorboards are sticky because God trusted me with two children to raise.

So, I watch cartoons with them.

I buy them new clothes and not myself.

I read about how to make their house a home to grow up in.

I plan play-dates instead of scheduling hair appointments.

I dance in public and act like a goofball to make them laugh.

"Stop it, mom,' my 6-year-old says. "That isn't cool."

I just smile and keep on dancing.

❤mamadickinson

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