If I am not a Black Mother and I am not a mother to white children does that make me grey? Or would a Grey Mommy connote a mother of a certain age range that I may be approaching in strands, but am not there yet. A Mocha Mommy is a support group for stay at home mothers of color so that does not describe me either, though it certainly describes an aspiration to be at home all day and write about the mocha mom in me. Chameleon Mom might be closer to the truth with all the colors I wear navigating from here-our blended family home Out into the so-much-to-explain in the world out there. Explain to the educator how a mother of a child of color surrounded in a room of white teachers may not feel as at ease understood or seen as the well intentioned intentional gathering might think she should. Explain to the manager of the grocery store that although he may offer me a hundred hair care options it is my children's hair for whom I inquire. Handing him the bottle of Mixed Chicks Shampoo I tell him that I would appreciate it if this product could be carried too. And not on an end cap, I add. End cap feels like an afterthought to me- wouldn't you agree? Explain the heaviness in my breath as my morning feet slide into the soft green slippers with the semi mushed pom-poms. That I have been turned inside out from the birth of my first born son grabbed up and into my arms in a hospital in North Carolina as I sat precariously on the edge of her bed on the edge of instant motherhood on the edge of other motherhood on the edge of our son's thirty-six hour life and shed. My understanding or lack there of. Being a mother of any color.