Skinny Jeans And All

Ok, so motherhood isn't the only thing that I'm insecure about. I'm also pretty insecure about fashion. Which is incredibly stupid if you think about it. It isn't as though I'm going to work or anything - just grocery shopping, going to the playground, teaching at my son's preschool.

Nevertheless, I still have fashion anxiety. Or maybe angst is a better word. I'm so very, very tired of the white t-shirts and old Gap jeans that I always wear to the playground. Last summer I wrote about my quest to find clothes that were fashionable, not exactly the same as what everyone else is wearing, machine washable and cheap. I lamented the fact that these things were not readily available in my neighborhood. And that I couldn't find them on the Internet. But now I've realized that the real problem is me.

I'm chronically behind the times. By the time I noticed that everyone was wearing cargo pants - and wanted some for myself - they were no longer in stores. By the time I warmed up to trouser jeans (which reminded me a teeny bit too much of those Dickies we had in junior high) you couldn't find them anywhere.

So I did the unthinkable. A couple of weeks ago, I bought some of those '80s pants (now called skinny jeans) that are in the stores. My friend Lisa said they made me look thin, so of course I had to buy them. And part of me figured that I might as well buy the skinny jeans while they were still selling them because by the time I wanted them its a sure bet you wouldn't be able to find them for love or money.

But when I got them home, I just couldn't believe what I'd done. My husband laughed out loud when he saw them.

After Mike finished laughing I left them on the top of my dresser for a couple of weeks, but finally, I was behind on laundry and needed something to wear so I took off the tags and put them on and took the kids out. And felt ridiculous! Memories flooded back - illicit drugs, Yaz, Limelight, white pumps, Obsession. But here's the thing. Instead of making me feel youthful, it made me feel like one of those old ladies that tries to look young by dressing like a teenager.

But I'm not just insecure, I'm also compulsive. So the good news is that now I have something else to obsess about.

I Don't Like Spiders and Snakes....

I'm more than a teensy bit insecure about my parenting skills. But every now and then I do something that makes me just want to pat myself on the back and say, "girlfriend, you rock." Like when I took the kids - by myself - to Florida. Or last Saturday when I held a tarantula.

It was Bug Day at the Randall Museum, our local nature museum for kids. And Miles was transfixed by the spiders. We couldn't drag him away. Several other kids had held it, and I thought that he might want to also (with a little encouragement). So, in a moment of unaccustomed bravery, I held out my hand and held it.

It's legs were kind of soft as it walked across your skin, but the big soft body that dragged across my palm was creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy.

But of course, I constantly underestimate Miles. He was wayyyy too smart to want to hold that thing.

But now I will have something to think about in the middle of the night, or next time we go camping.

On Being Mom

One of my friends just sent me a very beautiful essay called "On Being Mom" by Anna Quindlen. There are so many things in the essay that speak to me, even though her children are grown and mine are still (unfortunately) in diapers.

Quindlen writes movingly about the things she learned as a mother -- to listen to herself (and her kids) and not the experts, to learn to be humbled, and most of all to live in the moment. "I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."

Several years ago my friend Stephanie told me that she tried to spend an hour of uninterrupted time each day with each of her children. Possibly this was before I had any of my own. But I remember thinking what a short time an hour seems like. And now that I have two, I think what an impossibly long time it seems.

It is easy to be busy. As a stay-at-home Mom I can't sneak errands in during lunchtime or on the way home from work-- I have to arrange childcare for every haircut or workout, or bring kids along with me. Even evenings out with my husband require tons of advance planning (by me, not him. he just shows up). I have all of the responsibilities of my son's coop nursery school. And then the many logistics of running our household. And checking email. And watching 24. It is very easy to get caught up in all of it.

Plus it can be hard to keep my kids' attention. I can spend a large portion of their precious naptime preparing afternoon art projects that will keep their attention for say maybe five minutes. Even dying Easter eggs got old after ten. And also - dare I say it - sometimes playing with the kids can be boring. I mean really, how many times can we pack our bags and pretend that we're flying on the couch airplane to Hawaii? Sometimes it is just easier to let them play by themselves, or to try to get them to watch Sesame Street.

But I'm already feeling the pull of nostaglia. Even Miles at 3-1/2 is feeling it. One of his new favorite activities is pouring over the photo albums of when he and his sister were newborns. "Is that Miles? Is that Miles" he asks, unable to recognize his baby self. And in another way, I'm having trouble recognizing him too. As grueling as it can be, it is just going too darn fast.

So thanks Anna Quindlen. My gift to myself for Mother's Day will be to try to be present more often.