Mom Jeans

For those of you keeping score at home, I'm on Day 6 of my drug-free existence.  So far, the worst part is the withdrawal.  I have a persistent splitting headache, omnipresent dizziness, and a little bit of nausea.  Unfortunately there's no methadone equivalent for Celexa, so I'm on my own here.  And since moms don't get sick days (or vacation days... or hazard pay), I'm forging on. 

I can cope with physical symptoms.  Thus far, David has not come home to find me talking to the toaster or rocking back and forth in a corner, so I'm feeling pretty good about my mental state.  Moving on...

A very dear child-less friend of mine once joked, "For every picture you post of your child on facebook, I will post one of me having a life."  Touche.

It's extremely hard to maintain a modicum of coolness when you're a parent.  Suddenly you're worried about things like how fast people are driving through the neighborhood.  You know every line in the Sesame Street theme song.  And thank God for Netflix, because you haven't seen a movie in the theater since Avatar (true story).

Especially as a SAHM, it's easy to lose yourself in the seemingly endless sea of diapers, rice formula, and Barney DVDs.  But it's imperative that you NOT let this happen, otherwise you'll end up as one of those moms with the "Proud Parent of a DARE Graduate" bumper stickers.  (You know, because not having a heroine-addicted 10-year-old is something to brag about.)

While being a mother is the most important aspect of your life, I've learned that if you let it consume you, you'll go crazy.  Not long ago, I came precipitously close to that point, but thankfully my husband was there to pull me back from the abyss.

He came home from work to find me wearing the dumpiest pair of jeans you've ever seen, which I'd purchased because they were reaaaaaally comfortable.  "Honey," he cautiously began, "what size are those jeans?"  To which I replied, "Oh well they're a size too big, but they're reaaaaally comfortable."  He didn't say anything more.  He didn't have to.  Because in that moment it hit me: I'd bought MOM JEANS.

Mom jeans, along with jorts and holiday-themed apparel, are filed in my mind as "Things I Would Not Be Caught Dead Wearing".  (I'm the type of woman who wears 6-inch spike stilettos everywhere I go.)  But there I was, wearing hideous but comfortable jeans. 

As a SAHM, you often forget yourself.  While this is not inherently a bad thing, (better to be totally uncool than to be a bad mother) if you do it all the time, you'll wake up one day and realize you have no idea who you are.  I spent the first several months of my child's life being so focused on his health and well-being that I totally ignored my own needs.  This is easy to do, because you are madly, hopelessly, and obsessively in love with someone who doesn't even have a fused skull or knee caps yet.

So now I try to do one entirely selfish thing every day. At first I felt incredibly guilty about this.  Maybe I was worried that my son would grow up to be a cast member from "Jersey Shore" if I didn't devote every ounce of my energy to him.  Maybe I was afraid he'd start a meth lab in the garage if I took my eyes off him for 5 seconds.  I don't know specifically why I felt so compelled to sacrifice my sanity for my son, but I do know now that it actually makes you a BETTER mom if you do things for yourself.  Now I'm more able to laugh when he does things like spit peas in my face, and I'm less inclined to burst into tears every time I look down at my stomach (which, despite the fact I gave birth over 10 months ago, still bears a depressing resemblance to a deflated balloon).

I'm hoping to soon add "hanging out with other SAHMs" to my list of frivolous things I do every day.  I've gotten in contact with some women in my neighborhood who seem pretty great.  In the meantime, whether it's blogging, taking a bubble bath, or reading a decorating magazine and pretending I live in a house without Exersaucers everywhere, I make time for myself every day.  And I don't feel bad about it.