A couple months ago my friend Brian made a comment about how he didn't notice much sarcasm in this blog. "It's for my kids" I said and dismissed it for the moment. But it got me thinking, am I getting too vanilla??? I didn't give it too much thought right then but the comment has been haunting me since.
I started this blog when the doctor put me on bedrest. I couldn't shop, do housework, or take Ana anywhere. Quite frankly, I was bored out of my mind. I had read a few other mom blogs and loved the idea of having an outlet for what ever struck my fancy. As I began to write it turned into a collaboration of moments, milestones, meltdowns, and everything in between of my life with Ana...and now with Maddie. I loved the idea of having something that my girls will be able to read in the future that will give them even a glimpse into what their mama was thinking and doing in their early days. For the most part my posts have been pretty much me gushing about my girls and how wonderful my life is with them. I write about what they're doing and what they're saying. I write about what I think about being a mom and how mamahood is treating me. And now it's hit me. I don't ever write about me. Not me the mom or me the poopy diaper changer. Me. I want my girls to know who I was before I was Mommy. So I want to declare that my mission. But here's the problem. Do I even remember who I was before I was Mommy? Is that girl still there???
Three years ago I was already married but was still very much my own person. Anthony and I had our life together but always managed to have our own lives too. I would vacation with my gals and was living exactly the way I wanted to be. I had a job where my mind was actually of some value and I received a nice paycheck for it. I got to wear nice clothes everyday and I didn't have to worry about going home at the end of the day with spit up in my hair. And then I had Ana. I never saw myself as the stay-at-home type. I repeat, and then I had Ana. I made the decision to stay at home and I don't regret it. Not for a second. But the truth is, no one finds anything glamorous about a stay-at-home mom. No one. Not even me. I find myself missing my job. Not so much the working part of it but the gossiping and the 2 hour lunches and the after work drinks. I've been home for over a year and still hesitate when someone I meet asks what I do. "I stay at home". Blah. Sure I could go into all that I actually do to give it some meaning but what's the point? Unless you yourself stay home with your kids and are an active part of their lives you're not going to understand anyway. I may as well say I watch Oprah everyday and flip through magazines while my kids raise themselves. I'd get the same respect, right?
My life now is baths and poop and grocery shopping and housework and more poop. It's reading Elmo books for the 1,842nd time and watching Dora the friggin' Explorer. My body is no longer my own but instead a milk factory for Maddie and jungle gym for Ana. Instead of shopping for cute shoes on a weekly basis I shop for diapers and wipes and more diapers. I used to wear cute underwear. Now? As long as there's enough material to fit over my post-baby bootie I'm sold. And don't let it be too expensive because life on one income ain't no joke. Who knew Kathy Lee could become your favorite "designer"? I long to wear clothes that aren't made of "stretchy" material and if I could get a bra that doesn't have flaps, even better. My library of InStyle magazines has made way to the endless parenting and mom magazines I've subscribed to and the sales that get me excited are now at Jewel instead of the mall. Before I had kids I vowed to be the "cool mom". The mom that knew all the lyrics to their favorite music and would totally share their taste in clothes. I daydreamt of overhearing my kids' friends say with such enthusiasm as I left the room after doing something uber hip "your mom is the coolest".
So what have I done? Where did I let myself go? I don't know but here it is. Here is my declaration. I declare to take myself back. I will be cool again (or for the first time even). My girls will know me for the fun, kooky gal that my friends used to love. Sure to them I'll still be overprotective, rule-making, schedule-following mama, but I will be F-U-N. If not only for their sake, for the sake of my own sanity. We'll see how this goes....
fyi - I do realize using the word "kooky" doesn't exactly make me cool. My coolness starts....NOW.