You start to worry that your family is going to nominate you for TLC’s tv show “What Not to Wear.” You know that you constantly show up places in the same type clothing: jeans, shirt, boots, and if it’s cold you throw on a sweater. You literally have a uniform and it doesn’t really change all that much. You start to get paranoid that any day family is going to show up & start asking you questions about “fashion sense” and that Stacy & Clinton are going to bang down your door to make fun of you on NATIONAL TELEVISION. But then you think, who wouldn’t want $5000.00 towards a new wardrobe, a new haircut, & some makeup advice. Bring on the humiliation!
You’re dead tired and you’re getting ready for bed. You change out of your “mom” uniform & put on your favorite pjs which consist of a cute tank & shorts. You finish changing, you go wash your face, brush your teeth, you don’t even look in the mirror and you start heading to bed. Your hubs is doing homework in the den and you go to tell him good night. At which point he tells you that you look absolutely beautiful, peanut butter and all. You’re confused as heck but don’t pay any attention, he’s weird, is all you think to yourself. But you go look in the mirror just in case and that’s when you realize that you have peanut butter from your kiddo’s breakfast raked all over your shorts. Sexy, real sexy.
You don’t even think twice when your 19 mo old takes a wad of food out of his mouth that he’s having trouble chewing and hands it to you. You just stick your hand out like it’s not absolutely disgusting and toss it in the trash. At which point you look at your non-child friend who is at the house visiting and she is green in the face and looks like she’s going to vomit.
You swore you would NEVER have plastic surgery, but this post pregnancy body has you changing your mind on a regular basis, especially in the chest region. You start thinking that those hussies at the Playboy mansion might be onto something.
Your life revolves around routine, when it used to be all about spontaneity. But, you realize that you really like the whole schedule thing. It helps you and the baby know what to expect for the day. And lordy, lordy you count on that baby’s bedtime!
You start focusing on things like car seats, sleep training, not asking for Christmas presents because you would rather people would buy the baby stuff, spending $30 on me or saving it for a co-pay that you might or might not need, wandering childrens’ clothing/toy sections in stores & gasping from sheer excitement when you find a pair of baby Sperry’s on sale, and lots of other stuff you didn’t give a crud about two years ago.