A rose by any other name…

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I’m currently leading a double life – oh it’s all very exciting, don’t you know. Totes a post millennial thing. Think baggy topped legging-ed single mother living with parents by day, sultry vixen-like divorcee by night solving crime on the mean streets of Cornwall…

Yeeesss, maybe not. More back-in-childhood-bedroom watching Gilmore Girls reruns on Netflix trying not to demolish a bag of Maltesers. (And now that lots of people are describing their evenings as being of a ‘Netflix and Chill’ nature, I guess I’m not the only one doing this. Because that is what it means, yeah?!)

So anyway, rather than the mystery and intrigue, we’re talking a fairly low level double life here. Married mother versus single mum with a different surname to her son.

It’s a bit of a half way house situation at the moment – pure laziness on my part has meant some know me by one name, others by another. Which has been awkward at times – particularly at work when I was congratulated on the recent marriage. It was more awkward for them though, to be fair…

I always knew that I would revert back to my maiden name after the divorce. This was about me and my identity, not what rules ‘Society’ says I should conform to. (Get me, next I’ll be in my Doc Martens carrying a placard and wearing a nose stud)

Problem is, it’s not just ‘about me’ anymore. It’s about that gorgeous blonde haired, blue eyed, pain-in-the-arse toddler sleeping in the next room. And while I know I did the right thing for me, my resolution wavers a little when I think of him. Especially for as he gets older. Will he be teased at school? Will he think this was to do with rejection of him? Or, as – for the most part…no politics here… – times and the make up of families has changed and we’re becoming a bit of a more tolerant society, is this all in my head?

I ploughed on regardless with changing my driving licence, bank details and work email. I even changed my name on Facebook and Twitter – now you can tell I really meant business…

But, the Judgey McJudgerson in me is stopping me from making the change with the doctor’s. Even last week at the walk in clinic, I gave my old, married name, fearful that someone would question whether my son was actually mine.

The prejudice lies with me, I know. So until I can be completely at peace with my decision, I guess I have to keep reminding myself that the only names that truly matter here are ‘Mum’ and ‘Son’.

 

Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com

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