Having a child and some time passing change your whole perspective. I am finding that what I thought was an adequate maternity wardrobe is falling very short. I need different things now. When I was pregnant with Turner an outfit lasted the whole day. I had one get really dirty and work outside pair of shorts and a couple plain old t-shirts. Mostly I wore "outfits" that were casual but very cute.
This time I am in dire need of "play clothes". I need several pair of get dirty shorts, I need things that don't need to be ironed, and stuff that is comfortable even when you are bending over to color with sidewalk chalk. This is how it starts, I'll start looking like a mom.
When I was a teenager I would see people in their early thirties, or late twenties even, and think they looked so old. Now I don't think I look or dress that old, but I know the 18 year old Tiffany would beg to differ. I would rather cut off my own big toe than be caught wearing a pair of the dreaded Mom Jeans. Everyone knows what I am talking about: High waisted, tapered legs, enormous strange pockets, and the oh so sexy front butt. I stay away from those, but still want my butt(yes even my pregnant butt) to look cute, perky and in no way droopy.
I have found out that my friend Nikki was right, I am shaped different since having a child. I was the same size that I was before having Turner, but all of my assets were redistributed. I don't want Mom Body. I still want to look how I feel, which is about twenty at the moment. I was blessed and did not get stretch marks with my first pregnancy, hell I even ventured back into a cute bikini when all the weight was gone. But I am fearful that was my last tryst with a two piece. In my crazy mind there are rules, rules for everything. One of those happens to be "Women of a certain age(thirty) should not, no matter how good they look, wear a bikini. Now I have seen tons of ladies who look great in two pieces of next to nothing. I am not saying these rules are for everyone to follow, but they are there in my head for me. I know it doesn't make total sense, but neither does the "you must wait thirty minutes after drinking a soda to brush your teeth" rule. You see in my theory I have to wait because the acid from evil soda pop weakens the enamel on your teeth, then if you brush immediately you will damage or erode your enamel. See, lots of things in my life don't make sense.
Perhaps today I am having an anxiety attack. I am so scared that I'll wake up with the Mom Mullet on my head, driving a mini van, and wearing elastic waisted pants. Not that any of those are bad things(Who are we kidding? The mullet is really, really bad), but I don't feel like that would be a comfortable place to be for me. I had this same loss of identity scare when I was two months away from delivering Turner.
Having a son did change me. I can no longer watch the news with out praying for the families who've met with misfortune. I now pay close attention to Amber Alerts, I hope that if Turner were missing some one would pay attention and recognize him. Buying my clothes used to be top priority, now I worry more about getting my babies cute outfits than getting ones for myself. I think what changed most was I became a little less selfish. My first thoughts are now always with my two little angels, not me, me, me.
I just don't want to get myself so lost in my children that I stop being me. I still want my own interests. I want to look like myself, not a grubby unkempt person who used to be me. I also want to be able to be happy when my kids move out to be on their own. I don't want to be crushed when the chick-a-dees leave the nest because I have no identity apart from them. All these are good reasons to keep up with friends, go out on a kid free date with my husband, and have a girls night out once in a while.
So, as I sit here in my elastic waisted pants and look forward to wearing things that button and can be belted again, I am chipper. I know that I will still be me after having two kids. I was still myself after having one, just a new and improved version. The old Tiffany could not have cleaned up all matter of bodily fluid or tell you if someone were feverish by touching their cheek. I've learned so much from my boy, I hope I learn as much from the girl waiting to make her grand entrance.
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