The Mom Look

I got nine whole minutes in the hot steaming shower today. NINE.WHOLE.MINUTES. It was glorious…until Finley comes barging through the door announcing, “MOMMY! I went poopy and wiped all by myself!” She prances around ever so proud of herself. I gasp while envisioning what her bathroom looks like and well…trying NOT to envision what her..ahem…hiney looks like. My hot, steaming solitude of cleanliness quickly comes to an end as I step out of the shower demanding that Finley pull down her pants so I could finish her job. She just stares at me. Up and down she stares, almost inquisitively as if she is thinking, “OH.MY. WORD,” (in Finley’s language it would be pronounces OH MY WOOWD), “What in the world has happened to Mommy’s body?” And then she starts giggling some. “Mommy you are bouncin’!” I quickly cover up with my towel, horrified. I want to tell her, “Honey…I’ve bore three offspring. They are about to my knees. I now call them my tubes. And for the rest of it…well…I just can’t lay off the granola or the stinking Thin Mints. I have to have something to look forward to!” But I don’t say aloud for I know in her little 3 year old mind, I would give her the spiel, and the only thing that would register would be the cookies….and then she would want one at 9am. So I choose to ignore her comment and start wiping away.

I got a total of 8 more minutes to get ready. Now that includes drying my hair, slapping on a little makeup, and running my flat iron through the frizz. During that 8 minute streak…Harper was belting out quite the tunes in her bouncy seat (which was in the bathroom as well)…and she wasn’t belting out the Star Spangled Banner mind you, Reese was fussing about her socks and shirt being too tight (I wanted to tell her that I hope in 10 years that she WILL STILL be fussing about a shirt being too tight…but that wouldn’t have gone over too well), and Finley kept unrolling the toilet paper. With the last stroke of the flat iron, I gave myself the once over in the mirror. ICK. That was all I could think of. But oh well. I don’t have time for my look anymore. I got a million other things to think about. As long as I got the stench from my run this morning off, I am good.

I grab my little opera singer from her bouncy seat and latch her on to one of my “tubes” so her WHOLE performance would come to an end, and my mind drifts off to that scary vision I just saw in the mirror. Before I had children, I swore I would never have the typical “Mom Look.” You know what I mean. The LEE jeans that make the back pockets look like they are on your back..not your butt, the hair in the constant pony tail..with a scrunchy no less, little to no makeup, and the big pearl necklace floating somewhere between the neck and “the girls”. Or it was the jean jumper fitted ever so nicely around the bulging, bumpy buttocks garnished with a little cardigan with crocheted bunnies or cute little butterflies. Now I will still NEVER EVER be caught dead in a jean jumper nor will I wear anything that would try to give my butt a lift without surgery, but the realization of my “Mom Look” was a little too close to my nightmares of the visions of my youth.

Ok…lets start with the old love handles. Now I can see why Lee Jeans were so popular. Those moms didn’t want their flap of skin waving up and down as they chase their children. Hmm…jeans that go up past my belly button may be needed to be considered. Then lets go to my stomach. I was wearing a shirt the other day, and Reese frowned at me and said, “Mom..it looks like you’re having a baby again!” The shirt I have on today doesn’t do my stomach anymore justice, nor can one look past the spots I have on all my shirts. It has now become my fashion statement…spit up. And when it’s not spit up, it’s poop. Or wait…today it was boogies from my snooty nosed little 6 month old. I am telling you…the fragrance of me is nothing to be missed. I am turning the ol’ heads of men everywhere. (Note heavy sarcasm please…).

I envy those swanky Professional women who can wear FUN high heeled shoes, rock out those peep toed shoes, have an IRONED shirt on, and look so very well put together. I LOOK for opportunities to get dressed up and get out of my “mom uniform” (which is either t-shirt and jeans or sweats…depends on how I ate the day before! HA!) At church on Sundays, I many times am the ONLY one wearing a dress since it’s the only chance I get. But as much as a try…I DON”T look all put together on those days too. My dress ends up with spit up on the shoulders and poop on the arm. My panty hose make my dress cling in the places it really shouldn’t, or I have “plumbers crack” every time I bend over in a pair of “NICE” jeans. How do those Professional women do it?

Oh and then there is my hair. While I DO NOT do scrunchies, I have become quite fond of the old headband. The headband with the pony tail look has become frightfully familiar to my poor husband. I just can’t think of a better way to hide either one or both of two things: a)my long grown out roots. I don’t want anyone to know I am not a natural, beautiful blond, or b). that I haven’t had the privilege of showering for a few days.

So there you have it. That is my MOM look. I grab my computer with one hand while Harper is still eating and look up TLC’s What Not to Wear and see if there is ANY WAY I can nominate myself for that show. Looks like it may be a long shot. A mall shopping spree is in order. The first stop is Forever 21 (I think I will rename it Forever 29…) to get some trendy stuff, and then Ann Taylor for some sophisticated stuff, and then American Eagle for some make me look younger stuff. My self confidence needs a boost, and my look needs a change.

I see my Bible at my nightstand and immediately I can hear the words of Proverbs come to my mind…”No matter what, Sarah. You are fearfully and Wonderfully made.” Then I hear a “HA” from my sweet baby in my lap who is trying to get my attention. I look down and a big smile awaits me. A few coos, some more smiles, and some big slobbery kisses later my two older girls join me. “Mommy, can we cuddle?” And with that all 4 girls are in bed together…cuddling and watching cartoons. While I don’t want to let myself go and become the typical MOM look I envisioned as a teen, I realized that I will take this anyday to looking like I have myself all put together. I will trade the nicely ironed shirt for the poop and spit up stained one if that means a few more minutes of cuddle time with my sweet baby. I will trade in those cute peep toed shoes for some ugly tennis shoes if that means quality time at the zoo with my girls. While I may not look like I am all put together, I sure FEEL all put together. I am so blessed!