Is it the mom jeans? Really, I want to know.

I have lost my ability to pass. I am easily made for what I am. A mother. It isn't a bad thing, but it has become so obvious that I can no longer pretend to be a carefree childless thirty-something.

Is it the tattoo on my forehead that says "Mom of Two"? Is it my high waisted, pleated jeans? I kid, I kid, no tattoo or mom jeans here. It must be the constant look of fatigue, the wistful smiles at other people's babies, the knowing laughs at outrageous behavior of other kids. Or it could be the shopping cart full of Annie's Bunny Cracker, apple sauce, whole milk and sting cheese.

At very least I don't dress the part. No mom jeans, no "I heart my boys" sweatshirts. I try to stay true to my roots. I've even passed the phase of leaving the house with undetected spit up in my hair. I wear makeup when I leave the house, I put together "real" outfits, well, more or less, when I'm not going to be in for the day. I even cut and color my hair regularly, but the stink of motherhood is upon me.

I guess I'll just have to be content to try to be a "cool" mom. Unconventional, styled and quirky, but an obvious mother none the less.