Throughout my first semester at The University of Alabama, I have learned a plethora of things. I have learned how to live on a budget, how to manage my time wisely, how to juggle the three s’s of college (school, sleep, and social), but what I found most surprising is that I learned my true self.

At home, I was the youngest, and the smallest of my friend group. I took my gap year, which did help me mature, but not socially. When I got to the university, I was the oldest, but still the smallest. I had this knowledge that others had not acquired yet. I was the wise freshman, or most commonly titled “mom.”

At first, it was a running joke in my dorm, and with my neighbors. Then it grew to my best friends in my sorority. Not long after that, it was like people could sense that I was “mom,” and could call me that after talking to me for five minutes. I could not believe that I was perceived as this maternal figure to everyone I came across. To me, moms’ have this superpower where they are able to answer and fix almost every problem imaginable.

I do not know if it is in this Bama water that I am drinking, but I have obtained this mom superpower. My roommate came up to me during rush with a stain on her dress. She was completely panicked. Without hesitation, I grabbed the dress and found some stain remover that I had never seen before in my life, and somehow managed to get the stain out.

After my roommates figured out my hidden identity, they began asking for help on how to steam dresses. In my rush group, if someone forgot to use hairspray, or maybe they got a new blister, they would come to me for hairspray and band-aids. How did I receive this responsibility and knowledge?

As the year began, I regressed back to basic freshman. As virtually almost every freshman does, you tend to allow the freedom to give you this adrenaline rush. I lost almost all control for about two months before I reeled myself back to my humble state of mind. Within those two months, it is as if I just gained more knowledge on how to play the nursing role of a mother.

For instance, after my great grand-big’s birthday, my big had too much alcohol and ended up at up dorm. I was able to take care of her, handle the sound of her throwing up, and get her out of going out clothes, and into a T-shirt. She always tells me that I am her big and that she is my little. I can even become a mother to strangers. On my home from a meeting, I noticed two very intoxicated girls sitting on the ground outside of my dorm.

I had no idea who the two girls were, but I knew they were SNAM bound if someone did not step in to help. Something snapped inside me. Before I knew what was going on, I was right next to a puking freshman. I sacrificed my favorite hair tie to pull her hair up. I convinced the almost unconscious girl to get up on her feet and make it into her room.

I even walked her into her bathroom and put a T-shirt on her. Having this nursing ability was what surprised me the most. In high school, I could not be near someone throwing up or being sick. I was too worried about catching it or having to deal with someone in that condition.

Having this superpower really comes in handy for professional reasons. I had one of my sorority sisters convinced that I was a senior before I had even had a conversation with her. I think it is because I was raised in the south, so I was raised to have this southern hospitality sparkle all the time, but pretty much everyone else seems to think it is the mom thing.

When I was in a business competition, I was able to give off one of the most professional vibes and presentations, without even dressed in formal business attire. This also meshes with giving advice. I have become this relationship counselor for my roommate and her long-distance boyfriend. I am able to help my old boss work out a business plan for the upcoming quarter without being in the same state as him.

Being “Mom” has its downfalls. I know I have made it seem like I have all my *ish together, and some great and wonderful person, but in reality that is just how I am to the public’s eye. Behind closed dorm doors, I am a mess just like every freshman in college. I cry when I am overwhelmed, I struggle to keep all of my school assignments aligned, I could continue this list for a long time.

But that is the biggest downfall of being the “mom” friend: you always have to seem put together or everyone will implode with lost hope. I am not kidding. If mom can not keep it together, then everyone else thinks the world is coming to an end.

Being the “mom” friend has really made me appreciate and miss my real mom. I call her at least once a day to either brag or rant. My mom always puts her troubles aside to help me with mine. I am such a great “mom” friend because I had a great real mom to look up to. The reason I am so quick to know what to do in situations is that I watched her for 19 years. I am literally just faking it until I make it by mimicking my wonderful mother.

Now that I am three hours away from her, I notice things the little things that she used to do, and they would go unnoticed. I can not count how many times I called her randomly to thank her for something she did years ago, all because I did not realize how amazing and out of her way she would go to make sure that my younger brother and I could have comfort.

“Mom” is something I have now embraced, and love. I even found a more professional way to put it on my resume. It has honestly done nothing but good for me. Being the “mom” friend has allowed me to make this transition into independent adulthood quite easy and graceful. I truly feel that after college that I will be able to make it on my own, and in the real world. Sure, at first it was uber annoying, but now I could not imagine being anyone else.

For Christmas, this past December, my roommates, neighbors, and I decided to do a secret Santa. What did I get? A lovely candle and a mug that says, “Best Mom Ever.” I would not trade my babies for the world. And by “babies,” I mean basically any and everyone. The most ironic part of this entire thing? I do not even want kids when I get older and get married.

Thrive On,

Lily