Sunday, August 11, 2013

The Girls

The women's locker room at the our community pool is as one imagines most bathrooms at summer swimming establishments. Dingy. Cold. Gross.

Walking into the stall, I usher Maeve around me. Her wet ponytail bobbing up and down as she prances on her tiptoes.

"I don't hafta go anymore mama." She says in her usual sing songy voice.

"Um, you just raced out of the pool. You were grabbing yourself. You need to go potty." I say, ushering her onto the toilet. The stall door closes behind me.

Fumbling with the lock, she continues, "Um, why you do that mommy?"

"Excuse me?" I ask. "Why am I locking the door?"

"Uh-huh" she says.

"So no one walks in when you go potty. And so that no one walks in when I go potty next".

Nodding her head, she agrees with "Oh, okay mama."

I am wearing my new black halter bathing suit for only the second time. Tying around my neck and offering a deep v, I am a bit self-conscious of myself. I adjust the cups of my bathing suit, ensuring that things stay put as my nursing boobs seem to have a mind of their own at times.

Maeve watches, from the confines of the toilet seat. Eyes transfixed on my maneuvering.

"Whatcha doing Mama?" she asks.

"Are you done going potty?" I rrespond.

She continues, "I no hafta go. What are you doing with you swimsuit?"

"I'm just making sure it keeps everything covered Maeve". I say. "Now go potty!"

"I done. Why you want everything covered Mama?" she asks.

"Because I don't want people to see my boobs."

The laughter fills the stall. "Mommy" she starts, "We see you boobies now."

"Um, no you can't" I assure her. "My boobies aren't out".

"Yeah. I see you boobies now." she says again, pointing to my cleavage.

"No, Maeve. You do not see my boobs."

"Well," she continues, "I guess I not see ALL you boobs. But I do see them go up and down and up and down when you walk".

And then she starts laughing.

Thanks kid.

Leave it to my three year old to make me even more self conscious in a bathing suit because of my "girls".

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

And God created Yoga Pants.

"Your kids are always so nicely dressed and put together."

My cousin recently mentioned this to me at a birthday party.

It is true.

I am a bit of a crazy person with the older girls and their hair.

If they want it long, then it has to be up. From an early age, I would put their hair up, no excuses.

Thus, terms like "soccer hair"- two french braids, "softball hair"- half -up braid and then another braid to ensure the batting helmet can stay on, and "swimming braids" - two braids to keep goggles in place, have become part of our lexicon.

They don't expect to be permitted to leave the house with their hair down or in a headband alone.

Call me crazy, but the last thing I want is having to negotiate knots and tangles at the end of the day. I have been known to change out pigtails for braids mid-way through an event, like a baptism or party.

Clothing is another debate. Moira would prefer t-shirts and comfy shorts every day, while Maeve rotates from a steady supply of summer dresses. If I need Mo in a dress, it's a production. Conversely if we're going somewhere that necessities Maeve in shorts, it's a production. 

Two girls, same parents, same house, similar DNA, yet so very different. 

Thank God Margo still lets me put her in whatever I desire. 

It's not them, however that I'm choosing to write about today. 

It's me. 

I have a confession.
Margo is a week away from eight months, and in this period of time, I can count on two hands the times I have worn bottoms that do not have elastic waistbands. I shy away from jeans, shorts, capris, instead wearing yoga pants, yoga capris, and elastic waisted skirts. 

The same skirts I wore last year with my pregnant bump. 

I am in a style rut.

I look disheveled.

I'm not proud, and honestly, I'm kind of depressed about it.

My belly is disgustingly stretched out, and my clothes all fit strangely. Add horrible nursing bras to the mix, and I'm one sad looking individual.

I feel like prior to getting pregnant, I was slowly getting back to some resemblance of me. Grant it, I wasn't one hundred percent happy with the way I looked, but I had started to develop some style.

And then I got pregnant.

Maternity dressing wasn't so bad either. I did my best to accessorize, add color, and change it up.

But now, here I am wearing the same uniform almost daily: black yoga capris & a t-shirt or a pull on skirt with a v-neck t.

How Exciting?!?

I hate feeling like this, but I don't even know where to start. I've tried shopping online, but I know that I need to physically try things on. I really wish in the explanation of items they would say, "This piece is great in hiding that mama pouch!" or "Perfect for those breastfeeding enormous boobs!" Until that happens, my purchases online for clothing will be reserved for the girls.

As for shopping in person, that's another obstacle. I'm rarely in a position where I can try things on alone. Usually, all three kids are in tow, thus leaving little room for me to twist and twirl in front of the mirrors.

Yesterday, on a trip to Target, I brought a few things into the dressing room. Under the watchful eye of my budding fashionistas, I collected various skirts, a few shirts, and two pairs of jeans to try on. Not five minutes in, Margo started crying, Maeve kept going on and on about the toy aisles, while Mo asked when we would be finished. This is exactly the type of environment that leads to ridiculous purchases: like an orange, pink, and white skirt that for some reason had side cut outs like running shorts.

I ended up buying that skirt and a pair of jeans, after getting votes of approval from Moira and Maeve.

Yes, my five and three year old were my votes of validation.

I should have known better, because they were off. Trying the skirt on at home, without the pressures of the changing room, I realized how ill fitting it truly was. Bryan's confirmation of my suspicions led to another field trip to a different Target today to return the skirt.

I've tried scouring my closet, but I'm just too damn tired and lazy. Some of my previously favorite pieces aren't fitting the way they once did. I've looked to the web, and pinterest for inspiration, but I'm at a loss. I wish I could figure out how to do it, without breaking the bank and my self esteem.

I just want to look pretty again, and I don't want to put any time or energy into getting that way.

Is that a lot to ask for?

So, for now, when you see me in real life, wearing the same yoga pants and t-shirt for the one hundredth time, be kind.
I'm working on it.

Monday, August 5, 2013

Oh, No, Baby!

Can you hear that?

The sound of nothing. 

I'm sitting in the living room at nine in the morning alone.

The bigger girls are with their Uncle Joe-Joe eating a nice healthy breakfast of yogurt & chocolate cookie pop tarts. Fuel for their fun day with Popsie and Joey as they head to Dutch Wonderland.  Margo naps upstairs leaving me alone with my computer. 

Joey and his lovely wife Colleen are expecting their very first baby in December. As we dropped of Mo & Maeve yesterday, Bry and I shared stories of pregnancy, birth and parenthood with the new parents to be. 

I hope we didn't scare them too much. 

It was that conversation yesterday that inspired my list for today's Monday Listicles.  

There are lots of interesting things floating around the universe for babies now. Things that are totally impractical and seem to have no functional use, however can be found at places like Babies R Us, and on sale on Zulily. I don't doubt that Kim & Kanye's baby registry were filled with these sorts of items. However, for most of us, these things are impractical and no necessary. 

Thus, Colleen, I have this list all for you and any other new moms to be:

Ten Impractical Things for Baby

1. Hooded Bibs
How can you take this seriously? 
Furthermore, which kid will keep this on? 

Because one's sense of smell isn't enough to tell if a diaper is dirty?

3. Any white outerwear
White = No
Simple as that. 

Cashmere, really?

5. Baby Heels
No words. 

6. Faux Pigtail headband
Bald babies are beautiful! These headbands, not so much. 

Excess in the bathroom. 

For the baby boy who has everything. 

Imagine whipping this out at the playground? 
Goes perfect with a container of fish.

10. An Alarm Clock
Because you'll never sleep in again.