Cool Mom Resolutions

  I was never meant to be a regular mom. If I even had kids, I would be different. I’d be cool, because it’s not healthy to make your whole identity about someone else, especially someone who eats their boogers in the checkout aisle at the grocery store. Flash forward 3 years and there I was, pregnant with my 2nd, unshowered wearing yoga pants tucked into my knock-off Uggs, pushing a stroller to Starbucks immersed in a conversation about home pureed baby food as my former self rolled over in her grave, careful not to smear Chanel mascara on her silk-lined coffin. 

Really, I think I preserved my cool pretty well after my first was born. I went back to work after 12 weeks and was forced to presume the identity of someone who had a life beyond spit-up drenched machine-washables. Things started to deteriorate during my 2nd pregnancy, then got serious when we relocated to Walla Walla where I have the tremendous blessing of staying home with my kids and am relieved of the pressure to impress anyone. I know no one, and my only friends are my devastatingly cool nieces and sister-in-law who are forced to hang out with me at our weekly family night. I’ve lost myself in a wilderness of crusty sippy cups, slobbery baby kisses and the involuntary but perpetual question “why bother?” Why make the bed when we’re just going to sleep in it later? Why change out of pajamas when no one will see me anyway? Why wash my hair when it’s just going to stay in this ugly messy bun? If you’re feeling as clinically depressed as I am after reading that I think the answer is clear…we bother because not bothering means taking up residence right around the corner from a high-dose Zoloft prescription. 

In an effort to restore some dignity and keep some dollars out of Pfizer’s pocket I’m publicly resolving to the following efforts:

1. No more flip flops, no more Uggs.

This isn’t applicable while pregnant or with a newborn. I get the allure of shoes whose donning does not require hands. But, if you’re capable of bending over, or setting your baby down, which I now am, this is the easiest thing to fix. My out-of-the-house uniform of jeans and a v-neck tee is easily elevated from sad to “effortless chic” with actual shoes. A strappy sandal or a cool boot depending on the season can save us all from this easily avoidable pitfall. I love my flip flops, and I care deeply for my Fuggs (fake Uggs), but I love myself more.  

2. Less messy top knot.

The perfect hairdo for that whole ballerina
meets cranky old school mistress vibe.

Can I just say how real the struggle is on this? I used to exclusively wear my hair down and would NEVER leave the house without washing and blowdrying first. Then the topknot became cool around the time that tiny humans were pulling my hair out in chunks and I thought I’d won the hairstyle lottery. Now that my hair has been in the same mostly spherical rat’s nest for the last year it’s become my Scarlet Letter of lazy mom-ness. Throughout the day the sphere of sadness migrates from the top center of my head to any number of derelict endpoints, usually suspended flaccidly just above my right ear. 

Last week I got a haircut in desperate hopes that if I just had a hairstyle I would use my hair for good. Unfortunately, this aesthetic improvement has made no impact on the baby’s misguided belief that my hair is her trapeze to swing through life clinging to. Combine the real danger to my hair follicles with 90+ degree temperatures and I find myself searching for a hair tie like it’s a tourniquet for a severed limb. I try to release the mane when out in public but I’m far from free of the topknot. I just don’t have the answers here. Help, please.

3. Pants, Accessories, Makeup. 

It’s the kind of ironic tragedy worthy of vigorous tiny violin playing that I’ve become a horrific dresser. In high school I was runner up for Best Dressed (the competition was rigged…I was also runner up and the rightful winner of Most Likely to Choreograph a Music Video, but I’m not bitter or anything), then I went on to have a 7 year career in retail where I styled people for a living. I used to stand on the aisle with my label obsessed counterparts looking at the “mom” department disdainfully, scoffing out a string of statements that began “Ugh, I would so die…” 

In stark contrast, my current shopping bible has the following commandments: 

Thou shalt be machine washable. 

Thou shalt have easy boob access (for nursing my baby, pervert). 

Thou shalt be comfortable and effortless to the degree that I will actually wear you and not just save you for a nonexistent special occasion. 

Thou shalt not make me look fat. 

It’s amazing how restricting this doctrine is, so I’m adopting a simple formula for daily style: P.A.M. Pants, accessories, makeup. Here’s a letter by letter breakdown of my aesthetics acronym because I know this rivals rocket science and surely requires further explanation.

Here you see my one pair of jeans barely making
this wrinkly old t-shirt acceptable.

Pants - Here’s the important part: leggings are not pants, yoga pants are not pants (though admittedly the pants portion of the name “yoga pants” is misleading). You must wear pants in public. I avoided real pants for a while because yoga pants and leggings after a baby didn’t remind me of the new form my lower torso had taken the same way my old jeans did. So I bought new jeans. Just one pair. I wear them almost daily (which is fine, google the Don’t Wash Your Jeans movement). They remind me that I am an adult human being, worthy of being seen in public looking like I’m capable of more than rolling out of bed and maybe brushing my teeth before corralling my offspring into my station wagon.

Accessories - If you put on just one accessory it can serve to persuade others that you probably didn’t sleep in whatever you’re wearing. This necklace is amazing, it’s a teething necklace that has so far proven to be unbreakable. Though my Chewbeads necklace is essentially a baby toy, it is jewelry-like enough that once a guy working at Radio Shack complemented it. Thank you Radio Shack for the HDMI cable and the first male attention I’ve received from someone other than my husband in 4 years. 

Makeup - If you don’t wear makeup that’s awesome. Of all the products invented and perpetuated by making women feel insecure, I find the cosmetic industry to be the most offensive, largest-scoped scam. I’m not a talented makeup artist, but the 5-minute application I am capable of makes me feel like a slightly better me. When I opt out of makeup for the day it’s usually because I’ve decided that day would be a waste of makeup. Really that’s an unfair judgment to pass on a day when you’re only just meeting it, so I’m going to put on my makeup to ready myself for a badass day, every day.

4. Have a hobby.

I’m not naturally a “joiner.” Deep down inside there’s a part of me that gravitates toward the back of the bus, who wants to paint everything black, throw a middle finger to the world and ride off into the sunset satisfied in the certainty that no one understands me. Despite having embraced motherhood wholeheartedly, I can’t help but cringe at the idea of joining “stroller bootcamp” or going on the weekly walks with the Mom’s group. I know these are awesome community resources and I should be taking advantage of them, but I’m just not ready.

During my rare opportunities for adult interaction I found myself dreading the question “So, what have you been up to?” which resulted in me desperately racking my brain for a response that didn’t reference housework, Facebook, or noteworthy diaper changes. I needed something, anything to be up to. Community mom stuff felt outside of my comfort zone, and what other adult activity outside of the home can you take 2 children to? I tried the drop-in childcare at the gym and eventually gave up after one woman in particular seemed to dislike my baby (WTF). Learning to play guitar or do pottery didn't really seem feasible as home activities at this point in the game.

Finally I downloaded iBooks so I could read books on my phone while nursing the baby, and I’ve started writing (if you hadn’t noticed). Yes, I’ve elected reading and writing as my hobbies. I'm also proficient in addition and subtraction but I wouldn’t want to overextend myself. Fundamental as my “hobbies” may be, I can’t say enough about the positive effect engaging my mind in something has on my ability to feel like a whole human being.

 

5. Don’t be afraid of the world.

Wine tasting with kids: the ultimate %$&# you to people
trying to enjoy a child free day.

As a new mom I was terrified of going to restaurants or anywhere my baby might cry and/or annoy someone. I hid in my house where I could nurse my baby without accidentally making an uptight weirdo uncomfortable, have unfettered access to my baby gear, and contain any meltdowns without embarrassing myself. I felt like a leper. That was all wrong. Even parents deserve the liberty to enjoy the occasional public jaunt in broad daylight. It seems like when I can keep my cool my kids follow suit and most of our outings are uneventful in a good way. The days where it feels like too much effort to make it out of the house are often the days we most need to escape together. We go to coffee, we walk to the library, we meet my husband for lunch. I escape isolation and get a chance to show off my pants, one accessory and makeup.

My Cool Mom Resolutions probably won’t rocket me to the Beyonce mom-cool of my dreams, but as long as they keep me out of the Depths of Mom Despair I’ll keep trying. Keep trying is really what it all comes down to. How do you stay cool or at least motivated to keep trying?