So, I was looking at my friend’s Facebook album the other day, when I came across a picture of myself.
It was quite a shock.
I stared at it while gnawing at my nails....okay a cookie..., trying to decide what exactly it was that bothered me so much about it. Then, it hit me-
I looked like a mom. And not just any mom…
The kind of mom that I always made fun of. (Not you, of course, darling Mother of mine!) Dorky, behind the times, slightly frumpy, frazzled.
Well, I am not sure how to explain it, so here is the picture. It speaks louder than words.
Please ignore the cute girl on your right, that is not me. I am the one wearing some old baggy shirt, sporting flabby underarms, bruises on her shins, and socks with her Crocs. Yep. See what I mean?
(Oh yes, and there is a monitor next to me while I am watching fireworks. Paranoid much?)
To add insult to injury, I tried to take a self-portrait the next morning and this is what it looked like:
You know that I must love you if I am willing to share this with you.
Honestly, until I looked at the picture, I had forgotten that I hadn’t showered or brushed my hair yet that day. What happened?
I pondered all morning-and by pondered I mean that I ate an inappropriate number of apple turnovers in a fit of depression.
I came to a conclusion while I was on a morning walk with Joseph. (No, I did not shower, or put on make up before going, but I did add some fuzzy orange socks to go with my crocs, and an oversized sweatshirt, so I think that I was looking pretty HOT.)
The first few (read: 10 so far) months of motherhood have been so all-consuming that they have…well…consumed me. And, let’s face it, mostly people are looking at Joseph when we are out and about, and he is almost always dressed in an adorable and coordinating outfit.
When they look at me, they will just assume that I am tired. And, let’s face it, I am!
It has been easy and, well, extremely comfortable to slip into the “Mom” persona. And I am mostly okay with that. I will continue to make a mad dash to the bathroom 10 minutes before Brian gets home to “spruce up,” I will continue to shower daily, and try to get cute clothes when they are comfy and cheap, but, other than that, I’m good.
In that picture, my clothes are comfortable, my arms are comfy for hugging, my shins are....well...I'm just clumsy, and my shoes are machine washable (and DISHWASHER safe!) That's pretty cool.
See! Being a mom can still mean being cool! I just don’t have to be AS cool as before. I am cool in a comfy, cheap, practical, it's-okay-to-get-vomited-on sort of way. Joseph and Brian both love me anyway.
Plus, now that I am fatter, I can make more fat jokes and food jokes and not get hit. No one, in reality, likes that skinny girl who can eat whatever she wants and not have to exercise. Really now.
I sigh contentedly at this conclusion and continue my walk.
And yell at the car passing to SLOW DOWN!!! Honestly, drivers today....