Does any other mom (or any 30+ woman) for that matter, feel completely lost these days? I'm not sure what happened to me? One day I was a a young, fashionable woman who could shop anywhere and now I'm not even sure what section of the store I should be in? Juniors...no. Women's...no. Where is the mid life area of the friggin store? I am not 19 anymore and I don't want to look like it, but I don't want to wear something that my mom may be wearing, too. (Sorry Mom!) And when the heck are low rise jeans going to die already? Oh my goodness!!! Have we not seen enough crack lately to just end it?
And what radio station am I supposed to listen to? I tried listening to top 40 the other day. It was great, I was singing along, until I realized my preschooler was also singing along. Believe me, the lyrics are so much more disgusting coming from a 4 year old's mouth than from those singers. I tried listening to country, but I either hear my parents country that I remember from the backseat when I was growing up, or some kind of country/rap that is worse than fingernails on chalkboard.
So, I guess, where do I fit in? I have lost myself. And I'm not sure where to look? Where do you get clothes that don't cling to your fat rolls, or pants that don't show your moon to everyone? But, I don't want "Mom" jeans where my butt looks completely flat, either. What radio station do I listen to?
Even more infuriating is the fact that my husband seems to be completely unscathed from aging (and parenting, for that matter). Sure, he's got a little big bigger belly and a few more gray hairs, but he doesn't walk around in low rise jeans, hiking them up right before sitting/kneeling/leaning over/etc. He can still listen to the same music he enjoyed in high school and college (although it sounds like my ear drums may be crying listening to it). His clothes are the same, yes, a bit bigger than the day we married, but a T-shirt, jeans/shorts and tennis shoes are completely acceptable in 95% of his daily dealings. He doesn't stand in the middle of the men's section wondering which subsection of clothes to try on from. He just picks his clothes out, rarely tries them on (Why are they all sized the same and I have to try on 4 different sizes per brand to find my perfect fit?) and goes home, probably to drink a beer. He doesn't question the larger part of his life in the buying of his clothes like I do.
Maybe we are part of the lost generation. We are the forgotten women who are too old for Forever 21, but too young for the women's section. Too old to be young, but too young to be old. I wonder if all 30 something women feel as lost as I do in this world. Where do we fit in?
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Monday, November 16, 2015
Scared
I'm writing from my heart and from probably a lot of parents' hearts. I'm scared. I am worried about the world my children will be adults in. You know what I'm talking about: these last few days with the terrorist attacks in Paris and countless other problems throughout the world. Did I set them up for a life of scary situations? Will they see the collapse of humanity? Was I selfish just wanting children because it was the thing to do, not even thinking about how the world would be when they were growing up in it?
I worry about this every time something terrible happens in the world. I feel so bad for the families of the affected and wonder if they pondered these ideas late at night as well. I wonder if all mothers throughout all of time have had this same worry? Have they worried when Pearl Harbor was bombed that their children's future wasn't going to be growing up in a free nation? Were the mothers who bear children in the Black Plague worried that their children were going to be the end of all generations? Or the moms who lost children in a tsunami but then had more children, worried that their new children may come to an untimely death as well? Maybe this is part of mother hood? We worry about our children day in and day out. We worry about their future, that we are doing a good enough job and they will be a good person, that the world will be nice to them, that the world may someday be a better place that the one we are living in.
I try to live in a bubble of motherhood right now. Because, let's face it, as a mom I have a million things to worry about without the paranoia of the news channel. I worry that my daughter is doing well enough in math and that my preschooler is nice to her friends without being a "mean girl." I worry that my youngest is gaining weight fast enough, that I paid the electric bill on time, that the milk is on sale this week and if I can get there before it goes off sale (hey, $1 saved is $1). But, I can't live in the bubble forever: I see the bad things when I am on social media, on the radio in the car on the way to the school, or flashing across my phone when I'm getting ready to make a phone call.
Then I realize that if I wouldn't have risked having children in these sometimes grim times, I would have missed out on the possibility that one of them may change the world for the better. That one of them will come up with a vaccine to cure cancer or that they may see the world at complete peace someday. I would also be denying them the chance to see the good in the world. The chance to see the best of humanity, the thousands of good things that happen day in and day out that the news doesn't report on. And I would have missed the chance to see the light that they bring into my world everyday.
Friends, this is a scary time. But, as we look throughout history, they are all scary times. And yet, good reigns. We will point out the good to our children so they will see it everyday. We will give our children hope.
I worry about this every time something terrible happens in the world. I feel so bad for the families of the affected and wonder if they pondered these ideas late at night as well. I wonder if all mothers throughout all of time have had this same worry? Have they worried when Pearl Harbor was bombed that their children's future wasn't going to be growing up in a free nation? Were the mothers who bear children in the Black Plague worried that their children were going to be the end of all generations? Or the moms who lost children in a tsunami but then had more children, worried that their new children may come to an untimely death as well? Maybe this is part of mother hood? We worry about our children day in and day out. We worry about their future, that we are doing a good enough job and they will be a good person, that the world will be nice to them, that the world may someday be a better place that the one we are living in.
I try to live in a bubble of motherhood right now. Because, let's face it, as a mom I have a million things to worry about without the paranoia of the news channel. I worry that my daughter is doing well enough in math and that my preschooler is nice to her friends without being a "mean girl." I worry that my youngest is gaining weight fast enough, that I paid the electric bill on time, that the milk is on sale this week and if I can get there before it goes off sale (hey, $1 saved is $1). But, I can't live in the bubble forever: I see the bad things when I am on social media, on the radio in the car on the way to the school, or flashing across my phone when I'm getting ready to make a phone call.
Then I realize that if I wouldn't have risked having children in these sometimes grim times, I would have missed out on the possibility that one of them may change the world for the better. That one of them will come up with a vaccine to cure cancer or that they may see the world at complete peace someday. I would also be denying them the chance to see the good in the world. The chance to see the best of humanity, the thousands of good things that happen day in and day out that the news doesn't report on. And I would have missed the chance to see the light that they bring into my world everyday.
Friends, this is a scary time. But, as we look throughout history, they are all scary times. And yet, good reigns. We will point out the good to our children so they will see it everyday. We will give our children hope.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Apology Letter
Dear #3,
I'm writing you this letter today, just to simply say that I'm so very sorry. I'm sorry that I was too busy playing peek a boo with you to stop and grab my camera and take a picture. I'm sorry that I was cooking and holding you on my hip instead of writing down every milestone in your baby book. I'm sorry that a lot of times I had to walk by you instead of stopping to cuddle with you because I was running behind to go pick up one of your sisters. I'm sorry that I didn't read you the 3 stories at night that I read to #1 as a baby everynight, but I did sit by your crib at night when you were too scared to stay in your room alone until you fell asleep. I keep thinking that there is no way I will forget the way that you smile your cheesy smile or all your adorable words, but let's be honest here, I will. I will forget a lot of these moments of you being little. Because they will be lost in a million memories of you growing up: going to kindergarten, learning to read, learning multiplication, getting your feelings hurt, playing your first sport, going to high school, learning to drive, going to prom and graduating high school. I will forget how excited you get to grab your jacket to go get "Ya-Ya and No-wa" from school. I will forget your cute little way of saying "dank you," for everything. I will probably forget how your little face lights up when you hear your "Da-da" coming home from work.
And while I spent countless hours reading books to #1, and singing to #2 in the bathtub, I hurry through bath time and bedtime with you, because I have a million other things to do. While I would love to sit in the recliner and cuddle with you all day, I need to clean your clothes, wash the dishes, clean the floors, and make dinner for you and your sisters. I hope you forgive me for being too busy living in the moment to stop and take pictures and video. I hope you forgive me for taking care of the little essentials that make your world go around instead of making some hand print craft off of Pinterest. I hope that you forgive me that I never put one printed out picture in your baby book, but did let you sit in your highchair and color with your big sisters so you felt like one of them.
There are a few things that I will always remember, #3: I will always remember the bear hugs that you give my leg when I first get home, even if its from the grocery store. I will remember how all my fears of not being able to love another child as much as I loved #1 and #2 when finding out I was pregnant with you, all faded away when I first held you. And I will remember how much my heart swells when I see all my girls together, and my life complete because of all of you.
--Mommy
I'm writing you this letter today, just to simply say that I'm so very sorry. I'm sorry that I was too busy playing peek a boo with you to stop and grab my camera and take a picture. I'm sorry that I was cooking and holding you on my hip instead of writing down every milestone in your baby book. I'm sorry that a lot of times I had to walk by you instead of stopping to cuddle with you because I was running behind to go pick up one of your sisters. I'm sorry that I didn't read you the 3 stories at night that I read to #1 as a baby everynight, but I did sit by your crib at night when you were too scared to stay in your room alone until you fell asleep. I keep thinking that there is no way I will forget the way that you smile your cheesy smile or all your adorable words, but let's be honest here, I will. I will forget a lot of these moments of you being little. Because they will be lost in a million memories of you growing up: going to kindergarten, learning to read, learning multiplication, getting your feelings hurt, playing your first sport, going to high school, learning to drive, going to prom and graduating high school. I will forget how excited you get to grab your jacket to go get "Ya-Ya and No-wa" from school. I will forget your cute little way of saying "dank you," for everything. I will probably forget how your little face lights up when you hear your "Da-da" coming home from work.
And while I spent countless hours reading books to #1, and singing to #2 in the bathtub, I hurry through bath time and bedtime with you, because I have a million other things to do. While I would love to sit in the recliner and cuddle with you all day, I need to clean your clothes, wash the dishes, clean the floors, and make dinner for you and your sisters. I hope you forgive me for being too busy living in the moment to stop and take pictures and video. I hope you forgive me for taking care of the little essentials that make your world go around instead of making some hand print craft off of Pinterest. I hope that you forgive me that I never put one printed out picture in your baby book, but did let you sit in your highchair and color with your big sisters so you felt like one of them.
There are a few things that I will always remember, #3: I will always remember the bear hugs that you give my leg when I first get home, even if its from the grocery store. I will remember how all my fears of not being able to love another child as much as I loved #1 and #2 when finding out I was pregnant with you, all faded away when I first held you. And I will remember how much my heart swells when I see all my girls together, and my life complete because of all of you.
--Mommy
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