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Come and link up with Mama Kat's Losin' It for Thrusday's Writer's Prompts
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I spent a good several years in denial of my mommyhood. I mean, I had a baby or two permanently attached to my hip, and a diaper bag replaced my chic purses and bags...but I was young (I became a mother at 22 years old) and hot and REFUSED to fall prey to such horrifying things as "mom jeans". It worked...for awhile. My babies wore adorable clothes, their noses were always devoid of anything wet or slippery, their hair was always done - faux hawks for the boys, tiny pig tails for the girls with ribbons or barrettes. They always wore socks AND shoes. And that diaper bag? Plastic encased red silk with colorful butterflies all across it. Heck, even the bottles I used were cute and top-of-the-line. As often as not, I was mistaken for the cute young nanny of the two darling children I towed everywhere, to which, I laughed delightedly, and relished in the not-momishness of myself.
Now a days, though, (I'm now nearly 30) there's hardly a glimpse of that girl.
I now look in the mirror (at my bad haircut) and know I'm a mom because, in doing my girls' hair, I don't have time to do my own. All my clothes are second hand- some from my sister, some from a local second hand store, and almost all my clothes fit the "mom jeans" description, including my shirts and cardigans and worn out shoes. I still wear makeup, but never anything terribly daring. I still don't carry a purse, but now the diaper bag is something cheap (read: the bag that the enfamil samples from the hospital came in when I had Teague almost a year ago.)
Teague NEVER wears anything on his feet. I mean, I DO put the shoes and socks on, but I don't waste time putting them back on 30 times a day, when he constantly pulls them off. And occasionally, my younger two will have sliminess beneath their sweet pointed little noses....and that usually ends up on my shoulder, or at about knee level, where Teague pulls up to standing, and then rubs his face against my mom jeans.
I know I'm a mother because, while I can't say I don't care- in fact, I care very much and try very hard to keep myself and my kids looking presentable, to keep us all clean and tidy- I just realize that it HAPPENS. I'm a mom of four. My time is split in several directions. And I love them too much to worry about the trivial things. A little snot never hurt anyone, and when it gets on my shoulder because my sweet baby is giving me a tight hug when he wakes up from his nap, or slobbers all over my cheek in a giant kiss, well, that is worth ALL the chic diaper bags in the world!
Now a days, though, (I'm now nearly 30) there's hardly a glimpse of that girl.
I now look in the mirror (at my bad haircut) and know I'm a mom because, in doing my girls' hair, I don't have time to do my own. All my clothes are second hand- some from my sister, some from a local second hand store, and almost all my clothes fit the "mom jeans" description, including my shirts and cardigans and worn out shoes. I still wear makeup, but never anything terribly daring. I still don't carry a purse, but now the diaper bag is something cheap (read: the bag that the enfamil samples from the hospital came in when I had Teague almost a year ago.)
Teague NEVER wears anything on his feet. I mean, I DO put the shoes and socks on, but I don't waste time putting them back on 30 times a day, when he constantly pulls them off. And occasionally, my younger two will have sliminess beneath their sweet pointed little noses....and that usually ends up on my shoulder, or at about knee level, where Teague pulls up to standing, and then rubs his face against my mom jeans.
I know I'm a mother because, while I can't say I don't care- in fact, I care very much and try very hard to keep myself and my kids looking presentable, to keep us all clean and tidy- I just realize that it HAPPENS. I'm a mom of four. My time is split in several directions. And I love them too much to worry about the trivial things. A little snot never hurt anyone, and when it gets on my shoulder because my sweet baby is giving me a tight hug when he wakes up from his nap, or slobbers all over my cheek in a giant kiss, well, that is worth ALL the chic diaper bags in the world!
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