Post by Madame SONny Side @ http://lifeonthesonnyside.blogspot.com/
Disclaimer: If you already know me, you may see me in a terrible new light after reading this. If we haven’t met, I’m guessing that you won’t be in a hurry to shake my hand any time soon…
You've heard the cliché before...parenthood changes you. Although it's a very general and sort of obvious observation, it's definitely spot on. I think most folks immediately think of all of the positive changes...like "I grew as a person"..."It forced me to get my priorities in order"..."I learned what unconditional love feels like"..."I traded my social life in for something so much more fulfilling"..."blah, blah, blah". Listen, I'm not trying to take away from any of those beautiful and totally true ways that people change when they have children. But, some of the changes that I'd like to admit to here are far less glamorous...and are often rarely disclosed by parents who, I'd just bet, are guilty of some of the very same horrifying changes...
Disgusting Change #1 - Yesterday I ate scrambled eggs, goldfish crackers, cheerios, pasta, broccoli, and lots of other random things. That's not so bad, right? I didn't even eat them all at the same meal. Here comes the seriously shameful part...I ate most of those things not off of a plate, but a high chair seat, my son's arm, or even the kitchen floor. Some of the items were cold...some of them were even already chewed. I genuinely don't know how I've somehow rationalized that this is remotely acceptable adult behavior. It isn't lost on me that I'm suddenly and embarrassingly behaving like the family dog. It's not like I'm starving, or fail to recognize that the action is thoroughly disgusting. I get it.
In fact, I'm so appalled with myself, that I've given it some serious thought recently...I had to get to the bottom of this crazy and super disgusting change in myself.
I've chalked it up something like this...time is extraordinarily valuable to me, and when I'm multitasking at home, (i.e. trying to clean up lunch while stopping my son from reorganizing the freezer, and distracting him from crying by belting out the theme song to Yo Gabba Gabba), I'll skip as many steps as I can to successfully get from Point A to Point B. Apparently this includes scooping crumbs into my mouth rather than taking the short jaunt over to the trash can. Somewhere in my demented mommy-brain, I've decided that eating these scraps will save me a trip, adding valuable seconds to the clock in my head that never stops counting down. I can hear you screaming at me... “What?!” Hey, I'm with you. It's totally nuts. And unquestionably disgusting.
Also, I have totally new and shockingly low standards of what constitutes "gross" these days anyway. I mean the bar is really really low. I wipe away someone else's snot with my bare hands. If he wakes from sleep in the dark of his room, and smell alone can't confirm the contents of his diaper, I've been known to implement the finger check...you know, the one where your index finger bravely ventures down into the back of their diaper to check for poop. Thankfully, it usually returns no worse for the wear. Whew! I've even been puked on and didn't actually puke myself in response. I'm rarely fazed by bodily functions at all at this point.
Please, I beg of you not to confuse this with some weird kind of bragging. I assure you that's not where I'm going with this at all. I'm only trying to say that if my former self somehow hitched a ride in a Delorian and did a little spying on my current self...she probably wouldn't believe her eyes...and she'd probably do a lot of gagging.
Disgusting Change #2 - This weekend I went to the grocery store. I won't lie...I was wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt. Again. Yes, my hair was in a messy ponytail. No, I didn’t shower before I left the house. And I'll admit it…I didn't check the mirror before leaving. I packed up my very own Dennis the Menace along with the shopping list and hit the road. It wasn't until I reached the second aisle that I realized something was amiss. It hit me suddenly and with great terror. I wasn't wearing a bra. Dear Lord, what was happening to me?!
There was a time, not all that long ago, that I actually dedicated anywhere between 20 minutes to an hour in the morning to looking like a decent, clean, slightly fashion-forward human being who had a little self worth. I wore make up. I plucked my eyebrows regularly. I made a hair appointment every 6 weeks. I left the house feeling confident, and fully supported, because I was put together and would never dream of leaving without a bra on! That “yikes” moment in the grocery store woke a hibernating bear within me. Enough is enough, Jen. Bras and mirror checks are not optional. Trust me when I say, that despite the dark, two-inch roots that I may be rocking in my messy ponytail at this very moment, I AM wearing a bra…and I am committed to rededicating some time to take better care of myself…If for no other reason than not wanting my husband and child to be embarrassed to take me places.
Disgusting Change #3 – We talk about bodily functions a LOT in our household. Frequency and consistency of dirty diapers…farts…gas…burps…you get the picture. I almost don’t remember what it feels like to go a day without making someone else’s digestion my business. I fear my future in this department. I have friends with boys. I know that toilet talk in my house will only be on the rise before it ever shows a decline or begins to fall off. I need to join a book club or something…
I see well-dressed and well-groomed parents when I go places. I find myself wanting to ask them what their secret is. How do you look so together? So calm? So refreshed? I know it’s not a secret at all. They’re not super human. I’m sure that it simply requires snapping out of this parent fog and building in that time for myself, even if it means sacrificing that extra 20 minutes of sleep that I really really think I need. I know I’ll feel better when I do. I know everyone around me will probably feel better when they look at me too.
I’ve come to the conclusion that when you become a new parent, you spend the first year and a half just “getting by” in a survival mode of sorts. Eating, sleeping and basic functions require almost all of your attention. A good hair day is more a matter of luck than anything else at that point. But, I’m told it gets better. I can almost see for myself that it will. In the mean time, I’m going to try to look less like a Garbage Pail Kid and more like my old self. That’s the best part of hitting rock bottom in this department…I’ve got nowhere to go but up!
Hungry for more SONny Side stories & silliness? Read more of Jen’s blog at: http://lifeonthesonnyside.blogspot.com/
You can also follow her randomness on Twitter @Jenniferpro
0 comments:
Post a Comment