Friday, March 13, 2009

A Post Revisited

I don't deny that I am a stereotypical blogger, and that I have a somewhat addictive and paranoid personality as well. Take, for example, that I am quite addicted to my feedjit counter. I have a friend who is trying to free me of this even as I type. But, if I didn't have it, I would miss out on so much. Like this little encounter...

I found that one of my posts was mentioned in a thread on this site. I have to admit, the site intimidates me a ton, and I am pretty sure anything I said there would cause my foot, or someone else's foot, to be inserted into my mouth (please use some mint foot cream before insertion...please). And I don't really know if my post was mentioned in a positive or negative way either, so I'll just ramble on in my paranoia here.

See, many a lady have come from that anger-charged thread to read my Mom Jeans post, one of my very very first posts, which I am re-posting here for a re-read, or a first time read, in case you haven't gone back that far.

My post is all about being a first-time mom and buying new jeans, Mom Jeans to be exact, and coming to grips with it.

Apparently the Mom Jean is quite the hot topic, and women can get um, opinionated concerning the jest directed at the Mom Jean and possibly the kind of people who wear them. No one, so far, has tried to lynch my post (NOR have they commented); their angst is directed mainly at the SNL skit that features moms in these jeans and the stigma that is connected to that style of jean. But several (like, 30 in one week) woman have silently visited my blog from this one mention, and I am a little scared. What do they think?

Since I am all about self-deprecation for a laugh or two, I totally see the humor in this skit and wouldn't wear Mom Jeans any sooner than I would wear Daisy Dukes or a toga. However, to some this skit is not funny at all.




And I must say, some of the greatest people I know wear Mom Jeans; these particular women who DO wear Mom Jeans ALSO wear a kind demeanor, and an attitude of grace, toward all, stylishly on their sleeves as well. Because of that I can understand why it would offend some to group all these women into a physical and life-style stereotype that people laugh at. And though you won't ever see me wearing Mom Jeans, I hope my sleeves are as beautiful as the ones I know who do, someday. Anyway enjoy this "inspired by real life" post. It's more about how hard it was for me to get out of the house as a first time mommy, and dealing with all the experiences that come along with it.


Crying. Baby crying just stinks. You hate it. You want more than anything to help your Sweet One feel better so he can go back to that cooing and gurgling you love so much. But you are on a mission, because you’re FINALLY losing some weight, and you have been stuck in the house way too long. The sun is shining and new jeans sound better than the epidural you got at 6 centimeters. You manage to get your 25-pound fully-stocked diaper bag and baby into the car without much fuss and you are amped and ready to go. You pull out of your driveway, feeling free and totally independent!! You're three minutes into the weekend bumper-to-bumper traffic and your Sweet Little Angel starts screaming and wailing. This predicament is new to you. It’s just you, and baby, and traffic. What could possibly be wrong? Paci fell? Toe is cramped in new shoes? Sun is in his eyes? He is backwards in the seat and you can’t see him! How do you assess and remedy this? What do you do, miss your exit, pull of to the shoulder and fix the problem? Continue driving and put on some 80’s rock music, hoping to drown out the crying with the “wah wah” of the ever-popular guitar solo? Most moms I know opt out for the “twist your neck and arm backward" approach, using your new circus stunt to pat her head in between shifting gears and changing lanes while saying, “you’re ok!” at 40mph or more. While this does not do much to stop the crying, and puts you, baby, and others at extreme risk, at least you feel like you are doing something and you make your exit!


So you get to your destination no longer inspired but haggard and disoriented with the worst neck pinch you have yet experienced. With ringing ears you park wherever you can and begin to wrestle the stroller out of the trunk, breaking the one good nail you have trying to pop the thing open. You fit your monster of a diaper bag halfway into the bottom of the stroller and prepare for baby transport, only to find that baby has fallen blissfully asleep while you were fighting with the stroller. Your best efforts to gently move baby from car to stroller starts the wailing all over again as if you were attempting to catapult baby from his “comfy” car seat to the “comfy” stroller. Even moms who are lucky to have a car seat that locks onto the stroller don’t always escape a loud transition.


So 20 minutes into your trek, baby is crying that hunger cry you are learning to identify (and now you’re leaking) even though he just ate right before you left so he can’t POSSIBLY be hungry, right? You convince yourself of this in order to proceed and get from the parking lot into the mall. Baby's screams are amplified, each wail echoing painfully through the mall’s large walkways. What a way to announce it is time to find some new jeans! You feel all eyes on you as you trudge by, trying to remember the names of the clothing stores you used to shop at since so many new ones have popped up while you were living in the Maternity World. The annoyed eyes become all too heavy as you duck into a normal clothing store for the first time in about 6 months, and you are happy to escape the wave of grimaces. Breathing a sign of relief you quickly become appalled as you see skinny, taut women parading around you. Envy and disbelief overwhelm you and you are certain none of these women have had children, and you determine they should not be allowed to do so, for fear they might snap back to those annoying silhouettes . You angrily snatch the first three pairs of jeans you see in different sizes and lug the stroller to the dressing rooms.


On a side note, you have another dilemma: Do you use the room reserved for people with wheelchairs who need to use the support bars (this happens in bathrooms too)? You realistically cannot fit your diaper bag, let alone the stroller, in a dressing room designed for skinny childless people. By the way, baby is still crying. As you pray that no one in a wheelchair needs to try on anything in the next 15 minutes, you bolt into the dressing room and maneuver the stroller, diaper bag and of course, yourself into the still too-tiny dressing room and position yourself in a manner that you hope will reveal the most flattering image of your “new body” in the mirror.

You sit down and look at baby, who is not wailing any longer but seems to be taking a break as to save the real tantrum for an audience. You realize that baby’s binki is missing, but there is no time for that; she is quiet and it is now time for the daunting task of finding great jeans that fit! You remember the dressing room mirror as being evil, but now you wish you could try the jeans on in the dark! "Is this a fun mirror??" you moan while squinting so you can blur your view of stretch marks and chunky flesh.

Of course you try on your pre-pregnancy sized pants first. Denial and agony of the truth clash when they don’t fit and you groan as you pull them up as far as they will go, which is half-way up your thighs. You manage to convince yourself that clothing sizes changed within the last 6 months due to some manufacturing mishap and attempt to move on. The next pair is not much better, but after squirming and yanking you get them to cover your behind! For a split second you think you should buy these and use a rubber band to hold them together and wear over-sized shirts for now because the weight will just “melt off” once you start that strenuous exercise routine. You are jolted back into reality and try on the third pair. Of course the largest sized pants you don’t want to fit “fit”, and you are pretty sure you are buying your first pair of "mom jeans" as tears start to well in your eyes. Jeans shopping was not as fun as you thought it was going to be! After slipping back into your maternity jeans (which are actually more current with the trends than what you are about to buy) and letting your tummy back out, you realize you now have to go stand in line to buy the darn things. On cue baby starts crying and starts to emit a very ripe and nauseating smell. You decide the diaper can wait as you exit the room and head for the line of about 2000 people waiting to buy jeans in your old jean size.



As you stand in line with sweat dripping off your brow and onto the shelf of a chest you have acquired, you fumble for binkies, toys, Cheerios, anything that will get your baby to stop crying, but nothing is working and you know it is because of that rancid diaper you are allowing you child to steep in as it ferments due to your selfish quest. Your eye catches the clock on the wall, and to your amazement, you see that it took you an HOUR to try on three pairs of jeans. You swear you will never go out alone with baby in public again as you realize it is ALSO time for baby to eat and you either will have to sit on a bench by the cell phone kiosk to nurse, or use your half-an-hour window of time to get home and feed the ravenous peanut before he explodes. If you are a mom with formula, you are probably letting out a sigh of relief as you give the baby her bottle and the rest of the experience is somewhat tolerable. Or, you’re freaked out because you forgot your ATM card and have no cash to buy bottled water and must either, let your baby starve, or get water from the bathroom that was last cleaned, uh, when?


You are able to buy your jeans just before everyone passes out in line behind you and you make it out to the car relatively in one piece and start loading everything back in. Driving all the way home with that smell is certain to be a health hazard, so you attempt your first diaper change in the passenger side seat of the car. Right now you're happy I told you to pack plastic baggies! You’re tired, your breast pads are filled to capacity, and you wish I would have also have told you to add earplugs to the list! Baby starts crying again as soon as you are out of view, and the perilous drive home requires that 80’s rock music once again. In your stressed-out stupor you actually think your baby’s screams sound great to heavy metal. At least you got some jeans, right?

6 comments:

Jennifer said...

ROTFL! You just described my life! And I love that SNL video! I posted it on one of my very first blog posts, too! ... Ugh, I'm sweating just reliving the nightmare of that first solo shopping trip with the baby! LOL

Jessica said...

I remember too well my first trip out with my twins to the mall. It is forever ingrained in my head. I look forward to following your blog.

www.doubleplusone.blogspot.com

The Retired One said...

I wasn't blogging when you first wrote that yet, so I really laughed reading it now. Even though my youngest daughter is (ahem!) 30, I remember it well. And now? I am probably wearing Mommy Jeans...but damn, I am comfortable! One cannot blog in tight jeans. It cramps my creativity, damn it.
BTW: I tried to view the video and it crashed my computer (twice) so I gave up.

Insanity Kim said...

Glad you all have made it through that insanely long post! I was also worried no one would make it through! ha!

R.O. Yikes sorry! It should just take you to Hulu...just look up Mom Jeans on Hulu...

And, from past posts of yours I have read, I seriously doubt you wear the ACTUAL Mom Jeans!

Valonia said...

I recently came accross your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I dont know what to say except that I have enjoyed reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.


Ann

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Insanity Kim said...

Hello Valonia!

Thanks for stopping by and glad to hear you'll be sticking around! :)

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