Sunday, February 28, 2010

Mom Jeans

The decision to have a child is a big one.  Several questions need to be addressed.

Am I ready to be a parent? 

Am I able to financially support a child?

Am I ok with my body never being the same ever again?  Maybe I should adopt so I can keep my smoking hot body.

Are parents really serious when they say newborns make you sleep deprived?  If so, am I ready for that?  I like sleep!

What if there is something medically wrong with my child?

And the list could go on.  Once all these questions are answered in the affirmative the next question a woman needs to ask herself is

Am I ready to give all my attention to a self centered and demanding little person? 

Am I ok with “mom furniture?”  (This is furniture that has been antiqued with love by one’s own offspring.)

The most important question of all is:

Am I ready for mom jeans?

I know what you’re thinking.  Mom jeans are not part of the baby package.  Oh yes they are.  Every mom has something equivalent to mom jeans. 

My mom jeans started out as ponytails.  I had long hair after my first was born.  Long hair only looks good when it is styled in some way.  There are only a select few women who can wash and go with long hair and have it look sensational.  I am not one of those women. 

I swore I would never be the mom who had a baby and then got a haircut.  Despite my best efforts not to I resorted to ponytails on the days when I had nowhere to go.  I thought it was ok because I put myself together most of the time I went out.  I held onto my long hair for three months.  Then I had it cut into a stylishly short bob.  The bob forced me to do my hair every day.  Mom jean danger averted.

My long hair has come back several times since then.  I have it chopped off every time I go back to daily ponytails.  Mom jean danger still averted.

What I didn’t realize was that I was still holding onto mom jeans.

After conquering ponytails, glasses became my mom jeans.  It was too much effort to put in my gas permeable (hard) contact lenses every day.  I had a baby.  Who was I trying to impress by sticking a thick piece of uncomfortable plastic into my eyes every day? 

My glasses were cute and stylish.  About nine years ago.  Three kids later the anti glare film has nearly scratched off completely.  The wire frames have been adjusted and bent back into some semblance of normalcy countless times from Costco, where I purchased the glasses. 

Tristan's Glasses 013





There is a small crack in the top of one lens.  The purple paint has worn off on the temple pieces.  The nose guards are full of green gunk I cannot clean out.  The prescription isn’t even accurate.  I don’t remember how this happened but the prescription for my glasses and contacts are slightly different. 

Somehow I could not give up the ease and convenience of slipping on a pair of glasses every morning rather than taking an extra five minutes to put in contacts.  Every time I thought I needed to quit wearing my glasses like a security blanket I would pull out the contacts.  The second they were in my eyes were screaming like I had just inserted a piece of sandpaper rather than a contact lens. 

I complained to my ophthalmologist.  He suggested I have them polished.  This was done but I still couldn’t keep them in my eyes for more than an uncomfortable hour. 


This is one of my favorite pictures of me with my husband.  Luckily it’s not obvious that my eyes were bloodshot and watery with offensively irritating contacts in.  I put the lenses in five minutes before leaving the house for the portrait appointment.  An hour or so later we were finished.  I beelined for the bathroom to relieve my war ravished eyes that I’m surprised weren’t bleeding they hurt so badly.  I could barely keep my eyes opened enough to blink out the lenses which felt like they were glued to my eyeballs at that point.  The sigh of relief from my eyes was audible. 

There was never a defining moment when I knew I was ready to peel off the mom jean glasses.  Last weekend my husband told me he wanted me to have soft contacts and before I could come up with a lame excuse about being afraid to stick my finger in my eye (GP lenses jump on the eye to get in and easily blink out.  The finger doesn’t really even come close to being in the eye.) he had made an appointment for me with an optometrist since ophthalmologists don’t do anything as mundane as fitting patients for soft contacts. 

I have been loving the soft lenses ever since. 

I had no trouble getting the lenses in my eyes like Nia Vardalos’ character did in My Big Fat Greek Wedding.  But I sure thought of that scene every night when I couldn’t get the stupid things out.  Try shoving your fingers in your eye to pinch off a soft contact lens without blinking in self defense! 

The glasses have been ditched.  Ok, I still wear them at night but it’s difficult to see out of scratched glasses when I have been able to see clearly all day.  New glasses will be purchased soon.  Every night is a Flowers for Algernon feeling. 

My eyes are visible again.  The bags under my eyes have disappeared simply by taking off beat up glasses that gave the appearance of sleep deprivation.  My wedding ring has been repaired after a prong bent and I lost a baguette.  The ring sparkles on my finger announcing that I am off the market and I look good.  Geek to chic has never looked better!

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