I am schlumpy. Somehow I’ve lost my way with my stay-at-home-mom-uniform. (You know it. Black yoga pants and various crinkled clearance-bin T-shirts.)
Maybe I shouldn’t be sitting here in my stay-at-home-mom uniform with mysterious stains eating ice-cream and watching ‘The Devil Wears Prada.’ I’m the before Anne Hatheway, the one with the long skirt she got at a thrift sale and the blue sweater she got on clearance at a Club Monaco.
Ah, but I’m beyond such things as fashion. And clean, wrinkle-free clothes. And make-up…right? I’m too smart to worry about what I put on my back. And yet, and yet…sometimes I wish I had a closet full of clothes I don’t need. Two for every occasion. And instantly I feel guilty. Images of hungry children starving in Africa flash into my head. So many better ways to use any extra money I have.
And yet…as I sit here in my rumpled uniform and ponder the vastness of space and the fleeting nature of our lives I have to wonder…would it kill me to vary my uniform every now and again? Wear a dress shirt? Iron…something?
I think I’m just missing a little adult-time in my life. A chance to get dressed up and feel pretty instead of just grabbing what I can find that doesn’t smell on my way out the door. Sometimes it’s fun to be a girl. Put pretty nail polish on, wear a dress, try a new kind of mascara even if you don’t need it.
As I put on my gardening clothes and look for my trowel I think…this is good too. My head is full of landscaping plans for our new backyard, on where the light hits the ground. Where would be a good place to plant my lavender and sage? On how to keep the deer from eating my roses. I think I came to a choice a long time ago about what I wanted to focus on, on what I wanted to be. And it wasn’t on how to dress. I don’t know designers or frankly, how to put an outfit together. (I have two colors in my closet – brown and black. Anything other than that, mom bought it for me….) And for the most part I’m ok with that.
But. I’ve REALLLY gotten bad lately. Since I’ve become a mom I’ve sort of become third priority to myself…Ellie, Bill, me. And that’s not right either. I mean, really, I’m not a hundred yet I’ve still got one or two good years left where if I try really hard, I could still turn a head or two.
So, my vow for the next couple months is to get myself one new outfit and to wear make-up at least two of the seven days of the week. Just for me. Just so I can look in the mirror and instead of seeing a tired, pale face gaze back at me wearily, I see the vibrant youngish woman I feel like on the INSIDE. Because that’s what matters. Because being a good mom is about doing what’s best for you, too, every now and again. A happy mom is a good mom.