It is official, I have turned into that mom. You know, the ones who say the phrase “I will never”? Several years later, those “not evers” turn into quite frequent occurrences. Its a dark day my mother warned me would come, and here we are.
I was a very young, naive 20 year old when I became a mom. There were so many times I remember saying “never”, when it came to what kind of mom I’d be. I look back on all the garbage I’d think or say and I just want to slap my former self.
I said I would never allow my kids to eat junk food and that we’d strictly eat organic. Let me clarify: I love organic eating . . . minus the fact that it makes my checking account unhappy and my kids would rather chow down on a “nutritious” Lunchable. The reality is I have a busy family, so sometimes a bag of dry cereal on the way to school is what’s for breakfast. Does this happen often? No. But according to my 20-year-old self, this would have never happened.
Of course, I didn’t account for the 2:00 a.m. bed wetting wake-up calls or the arguments over what outfit my four year old wants to wear. Learning to compromise has been an important part of growing as a mom. “Throw a towel over that, I’ll deal with it in the morning.” (Don’t you judge me because we’ve all done it.) “If you wanna wear rain boots and a sequined dress, be my guest.”
I swore physical fitness would be a top priority and I’d maintain my tiny ballerina waistline by eating only salads. Appearance may only be skin deep, but this skin would be flawless. Eight years later and it’s either a face with makeup or a clean house, gym time or dinner on the table. Take your pick, because for me it’s never gonna be both. I know some mamas out there who can do all of the above (you ladies are rock stars), but I’m captain of the struggle bus and my never-ever scenarios are becoming more and more regular.
What happened was . . .
I was taking Lily to pre-school, sporting my husband’s huge sweat shirt, yoga pants that haven’t seen yoga in over a month, messy hair, no makeup, and over-sized sunglasses (even though it was raining out). Walking down the hall, I happened to catch a glimpse of my reflection in a glass door. Ya’ll, it caused me to stop in my tracks; I became apologetically aware of how unfortunate I looked. Former Lindsay would have never been in this position.
Suddenly, friendly smiles felt like pity smiles and judgmental eyes were burning holes through my soul. In that very moment, I knew it happened . . . I had officially become that mom. Cue the storm clouds and my mother’s voice saying, “I told you so.”
This has always been a never, not in a million years, ever for me. I have always made a point to not look like I’ve been hit by a bus, and now here I was trying to remain carefree in my dump truck appearance. Maybe being fairly new to having three kids has plummeted me to this low point of disheveled-ness . . . but this is a stage, right? A phase of my life, that will [hopefully] pass just as quickly as it came. While I have zero intention of walking through Lily’s school like a pageant queen, a little concealer can go a long way. So, here’s to adapting and evolving and letting go of any expectations I conjured up years ago. I’m waving a white flag in surrender; if I am that mom, then so be it. Now, pass me the dry shampoo.