Not Your Mom’s Mom Jeans

Pajama Jeans could very well be the best invention…ever. I wouldn’t know first-hand, but I’m guessing they’re fantastic! Stretchy pants that look like jeans? What in this world could be better? I dare you to find something that can stand up to comfort and style all rolled into one. You can bike in them, take your kids for a walk, go to the grocery store (all examples used in the infomercial) while still looking fabulously chic…or like you’re wearing faux jeans–which you are. One of their slogans is “They’re so comfortable, you’ll want to sleep in them!” Awesome, so I can roll right out of bed in the morning and be ready for the day? Tell me more!

Pajama Jeans are a new mummy’s dream-come-true. Who wants to put real jeans on after squeezing a watermelon from your nether regions? Not me! For one, I couldn’t fit into my actual jeans for a couple of months post-baby so I lived in my yoga pants and maternity jeans. While maternity jeans have come a long way, I’m betting they lack the comfort, not to mention the sophistication, of these pajama-like threads.  “Jeggings,” or leggings intended to look like jeans, are a close relative to the Pajama Jean, but they are just not an option for someone with natural, child-bearing hips (or over the age of twenty-two). So it seems Pajama Jeans is the way to go.

I’ve been tempted to order these clever duds because it would allow me to remain comfortable in my day-to-day wear while tricking my hubby that I’m not giving in to “The Decline”. But I just can’t make sense out of spending money on these imposters. I’d rather stick to my run-of-the-mill black yoga pants when I’m having a lazy day because then I wouldn’t be found out. I could just imagine someone noticing that I was, in fact, wearing Pajama Jeans. Would I be ashamed? Would they be jealous? It’s hard to say. It’s not like I wouldn’t give them a try if someone happened to buy me a pair. Just like I wouldn’t turn down a Snuggie or a Shake Weight either, but you wouldn’t hear me announcing that I owned these products.

What if these Pajama Jeans are the new “MOM” jeans? What if ten years from now they’re the equivalent of the belly button skimming, tapered, stone-washed jeans your mom would’ve worn in 1983? That’s a risk this Mummy is not willing to take…in public at least.

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Your Mom Goes to College

On January 18, 2011 I officially became a “your mom” joke. (“Mom jeans” and fanny pack to be issued at the hospital upon delivery).  I was, in fact, somebody’s mom therefore susceptible to this ever-popular comeback. A joke used by most males between the ages of ten and twenty or in my case, my twenty-nine year old husband. He likes to use it regularly. He’s also a fan of the ever popular, “That’s what she said,” which can, at times, be used interchangeably. Here is an example: “I like spicy sausage!” “Your mom likes spicy sausage,” or “That’s what she said.” Easy as pie and probably why the hubby likes it so. No thinking required!

It dawned on me that these two expressions might be going strong by the time my daughter is ten or so and I would be the butt of the joke. These little twerps running around making fun of me and I would be clueless. What’s a mummy to do? Grin and bear it? Tell them a grandma joke? “Your Grandma likes spicy sausage!” (Using their moms as jokes would be cruel, but grandmas would be fair game). But I couldn’t stoop to their level being the adult and all…or could I?

When my hubby and I were younger we bought shirts that read, “I heart your mom.” We wore them for a picture and our moms thought it was the cutest thing ever, totally missing the joke while we snickered in the background. Oh, if I could find that photo now… I guess everything comes full circle so it’s just a matter of time before my daughter laughs hysterically when someone says that her mom likes spicy sausage or that her mom goes to college and I’ll probably smile and think they’re just the cutest kids ever.

Virgin Territory

So I’m new to blogging, hence the virgin reference (cause we all know I ain’t one since I have a 6 month old!) Part of me can’t believe I just wrote that–the virgin thing not the baby thing. But the other part of me is not surprised because I don’t really know who I am anymore since having my daughter. Well that’s precisely the reason why I’m starting this thing…to meet the new me now that I’m a mom. I’ve already learned that there aren’t many things in this world that will flip your life upside-down quite like becoming a parent. In all the best and most unexpected ways, of course!

It’s not a “Brooke Shields postpartum depression kinda thing” going on that has prompted this sudden need to define myself, though I’m certainly aware that postpartum D is no joke. It’s more of a “One minute it was just me, the hubby, the animals and an expanding baby bump and the next thing we knew there was a screaming, pooping, beautiful little girl who demanded every second of our day and night” kind of thing. With sleep deprivation you tend to lose sight and clarity of a lot of things and in my case my identity went out the window along with my sleep. Oh, my glorious sleep how I miss thee…

Before our gorgeous girl came along, I was not so young, but still relatively carefree. Carefree in the sense that I was able to follow my dream of becoming a writer (novels pending), I could stay up late and sleep till whenever, have a girls’ night out drinking glass after glass of wine, watch a movie uninterrupted, and leave the house with just a sweater and a lip gloss in my pocket! Those days are long gone!! In other words life went from simple to anything but. That’s okay though because I’ve waited so long to become a mother and it’s one of the best things ever!

I was elated to have a daughter (even though I would have been excited to have a son as well) but I was secretly hoping for a girl the whole time I was pregnant. There’s just something about the mother/daughter bond that is inexpressible. I hope this outlet prepares me for the inevitable “talks” that are way, way in my future…at least let’s hope they’re not happening anytime soon because I’m clueless how to approach them/her. She isn’t speaking yet, so I think I’m okay for awhile. Anyway, I want to be able to teach her and share with her all without being ashamed or embarrassed of my own history/hang-ups and to embrace whatever path she wants to take. I think it’s impossible to not screw her up just a little but maybe because I’m aware of this going in, then the scarring will be very minimal. But aren’t scars a badge of honor? I guess I’ll have to brainwash, er, I mean teach her that.

So tune in to read all about my efforts to avoid “mom” jeans and the eventual “Decline” as my hubby likes to call a mom who lives in faded, stained sweat pants and ripped T-shirts, not that there’s anything wrong with moms who choose to wear those things but I hope I don’t succumb and end up on an ambush makeover show in 10 years. I’m not saying I want to be a MILF either, there’s something very wrong about that term, but there’s got to be a normal medium somewhere in the middle. Maybe becoming a mom is like aging…you don’t feel it happening but one day you look in the mirror and realize you’re changed.