Do you know what I’m really afraid of?
Mom jeans.
High waisted to hold in the leftover baby pooch, slim around the ankles with white tennis shoes. Or, Heaven forbid, the “capri” variety with socks and a pair of New Balance….
No. Not a good look. For anyone.
I know, I know, I’ve probably offended someone out there who loves their mom jeans. Or maybe someone doesn’t care about how they look and thinks I’m silly for even going there.
It’s not about the jeans, though. Not exactly. It’s more about me. Not my body (thank you, Weight Watchers app for checking in again today after my week from Hell. No, I’m still not going to weigh myself), not my fashion, just me.
The back story is this: Long before we even thought about Tessa, I began planning a student trip to Costa Rica with some colleagues. When we set our June, 2014 travel date, John and I were planning to have our second child about a year before the trip.
We all know how much God loves our plans.
Instead of our April 2013 baby, we got Tessa in late December. And cautiously, John agreed that she would be old enough in June for him to take care of both girls on his own for nine full days.
Flash forward to now, about a month before departure, and I had to back out of the trip. Aside from the financial aspect, there was a strong feeling that until Tessa is just a little healthier, stronger, more self sufficient, I need to be available… at least in the same country.
I am totally at peace with this decision. Of course, who doesn’t want to go gallivanting around a beautiful, exotic cloud forest, even if it is with a bunch of 17-year-olds?? Sad, yes, but I know this is best for us and what we can afford financially and emotionally. But it has me thinking about the “mom jeans.”
Because what if this snowballs? “No trip” turns into putting off a manicure or not getting Happy Hour wine with a friend so that I can be home with the kids… Then I stop putting on make-up every day and hair styling becomes a distant memory and then all the sudden I’m sitting on the couch in my mom jeans and old Kelly Clarkson t-shirt watching Shark Tank on a Friday night and I’m planning my weekend of chores instead of going on a date with my husband or taking a bubble bath.
It’s not the mom jeans. It’s the idea of life in mom jeans. It’s the idea of not taking a hour in the evening to read a book or catch up on Sister Wives… Or not finding a way to prioritize my own exercise routine…. Or not having enough energy to make sure that I haven’t created some awful outfit combination of stripes and polka dots while getting ready for work. That is my fear. Of not “putting on my oxygen mask first” like our NICU social worker used to always tell us.
John says the transition from zero kids to one was way more difficult than one to two. I beg to differ.
Yo soy La Lay 
My dear friend, I walk around daily in terror of this! In fact, I feel like I’ve started slipping in this direction with the speed of an avalanche, and I only have the one child! This is to say,you have done such a good job of retaining essential pieces of yourself – you are an inspiration to me. I have confidence that you will find ways to safeguard this space for yourself. And thanks for putting this out into the world. You make me feel less alone. š
Yes, so when are we going to plan our Girl’s Night Out?? Because I really miss you and am totally motivated to put on a shoe with a heel. š
I felt the same way for a long time after having Juliana was born. I can tell you that now that she is 5 life hasn’t gotten easier, but I don’t feel like I am about to spin out of control at any moment. It may sound selfish, but you have to schedule me time for yourself, and it’s NOT selfish. If you don’t, you will go crazy. Put it on the calendar IN PEN, because then you can’t erase it.
You are right, Jenna. I keep talking about things I want to do and then fourteen other things get in the way. I don’t want to use my kids as an excuse or a crutch, but my goodness, they are exhausting little creatures!!
This post reminded me of a great SNL sketch https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aVxNH6iN9I
It’ll make you laugh. š
Oh Maggie, this is SO me!! But my “mom jeans” fear came with our prenatal diagnosis. The immediate image I had was of a mother with permed, mullet hair, thick glasses and mom jeans (probably acid-washed & pleated) marching into school to advocate for her son. All fire-y and well, crazy. I fear the mom jeans too! I’ll hold you accountable if you’ll hold me š
You got it. I don’t want to look frazzled for the rest of my life!!!
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