I can’t exactly put a finger on when I started to somewhat lose my “coolness” factor but I am thinking it was somewhere in the past five years…I must admit that while I won’t blame this entirely on my children, there is somewhat of a correlation between when I had my first child and when I started to slip a bit on the “cool” barometer. Though I certainly don’t want to sound like I am ridiculously full of myself, I must confess that there was indeed a time in which I was a pretty cool chick. I enjoyed my free time sipping good wine, doing some fun shopping in which I wore pretty trendy, cute clothes, and jetting around the Broad Ripple area of Indianapolis in my convertible Cabrio with the stereo up and a not a care in the world. In those same days, I would often stop in at La Jolla for an after-work margartia, go home and read People magazine before drifting off for a nap and then get ready to hit the scene for the evening by 9 p.m. I would then eat a late dinner and hit the bars in which one could always count on a somewhat lengthy evening. I mean, come on – there was an entire circle of us that did the same thing every weekend and we were indeed quite hip and fun. In other words, I had a darn good time in my youth, dammit. So now fast forward to about eight years later and I find myself recently walking through a Walgreen’s with Missy Moo and Bubba Boo about six days after giving birth to my third child. For starters, I am a bit sore but so completely excited about getting out of my house that I am actually really jacked to go to the drugstore – not to mention proud of myself that I could get both of my older kiddos out the door and leave my newbie behind with our wonderful sitter for just an hour. As those of us who have given birth know, there is sometimes a problem with being able to go to the bathroom after delivery – and I am not talking about urinating. Docs often recommend that one take a stool softener for a while until things begin to “regulate”*. Let me also mention that I live in a Big Ten college town in which there are always very cute, innocent (at least they look that way to me) students who call me “ma’am”. So here we are walking through the aisles of Walgreen’s and I am looking for Colace. Well, wouldn’t you know I can’t find the dang aisle of “laxatives” and here I am by the pharmacy anyway so I decide that I just really don’t care what people think. Let me just state that this is the first sign that you are getting along in years – you just don’t really care what people think. Truthfully, I am going to admit that I like this about being in my mid-thirties – it is very liberating to just simply put yourself ou t there and whoever doesn’t like it, well, so what. La di freakin’ da! I am who I am. On the other hand, I do want to shake the shoulders of these youngin’s and say “Stop looking at me that way just because I drive a Honda Odessey and am looking for laxatives with my two babies in tow! I once went to the H.O.R.D.E. Fest, played Quarters and ate “burritos as big as your head” at three o’clock in the morning, too! You will be here someday!” Thankfully, I have a small amount of a filter left and to date, I have yet to do this to a poor unsuspecting soul who is simply trying to just do his or her job. So here we are looking for Colace when I stop to ask the very cute 20-something male pharmacy technician where I might find this wonder-drug. Instead of flirting with the darling boy as I would have done in my carefree twenties, I now look at him and think of either of my two boys and what they will be like when they will be in college and then I also think that he is someone’s son and his mom is probably wondering what he is doing and wanting to squeeze him so hard that he shirks away in embarrassment though he will secretly love it… Of course, said cutie has no idea where the Colace is located and must ask someone else, thus getting another person involved in my laxative hunt at Walgreen’s. Once the cutie emerges to escort me to the laxative aisle (could there be anything more humbling? I mean really…), Missy Moo begins to turn this little quest into her newest littly ditty – have I mentioned that she is a budding songwriter? “Colace, Colace, mommy needs her Colace!” begins to be sung at top volume as we journey through the aisles behind the darling technician. It is not until we reach the checkout line that I realize that I didn’t even care – in fact, it gave me a much-needed laugh at my own expense. Yes, there was a time when I would have been mortified at this but now, I have to relish in the fact that frankly, I don’t give a damn. I have caught myself looking so scary and smelling so funky and yet still piling the crew into the truckster to go on an outing because there is just no time to attend to anything other than getting snacks, drinks, diapers, formula, pacifiers, and shoes. One must is my travel coffee and this always outweighs the need for primping, therefore, when I do catch sight of myself in a passing mirror, I am a little scared but hey – who has time for that? I like to think I look more real now and this would reflect who I am now in the inside of my soul – more real. The reality is that we are not always going to look perfect and care who is dating who and wearing what. At some point, we all grow up to realize that there is just so much more than that and my so much more is the world of snacks, boo-boo’s, sippy cups, Laurie Berkner music, princesses, and trucks. My “so much more” is so much more that I am content with the new “unhip” of me. Besides, isn’t it always the mortifyingly unhip that eventually becomes hip again? Well, here I am…
I love hanging out on Instagram! Join me?
Some of your favorite posts…
When We Think It’s Impressive to Be Busy
* Friends, I’m in Book Launch Land. I’m feverishly working to prepare for the release of Heart Sisters: Be the Friend You Want to Have. I’ll be re-posting some oldies (but hopefully you’ll think they’re goodies!) now and then so I can focus more on the upcoming release. Thanks for understanding . . . Oh – and I so appreciate you taking the time share on social media. This is the way of the writer these days and will help get the word out about Heart Sisters! A few years ago, I was talking to a woman who was in ..
For When You Wash Your Phone in the Washing Machine
Last week, I found myself with an unplanned hour and a house of beckoning chores demanding immediate attention. So like any woman with a house full o’ kids and a husband that works long hours, I thought I would just cram as much as I possibly could into those precious 60 minutes. I arrived home, put on my running shoes and started to RUN throughout the house, checking this and that off my list. A few minutes into my Wonder Woman mission, I grabbed a load of dirty towels and, clutching my phone in my right hand, loaded them in ..
Five Ways To Raise An Anxious Child
I know, I know . . . Who wants to raise an anxious child? Who would ever read such a post? Of course, none of us intentionally tries to raise a child prone to anxiety and stress. But many of us are. Myself included. I’m not preaching to you from the pulpit – I’m talking to you as a friend sitting with you in the same boat. And at times it feels like we’re wearing life preservers and praying for rescue, doesn’t it? The more I think about this though, the more I realize that perhaps parenting is really not ..
Church Shopping: On Finding a New Church
If you’ve been hurt by the church, then it’s likely the thought of ever going back to church again is right up there with oh, say getting your teeth pulled (sorry, Honey.) (My husband’s a dentist. I have to watch dental jokes and comparisons.). I need to confess I once felt the same. Honestly, when those wounds were still raw, the thought of ever stepping foot inside another church again was enough to make me physically ill. We (Jason and I) talked it over incessantly. “Maybe we could just follow Jesus and just not go to church?” we asked each ..
Why Christians Don’t Always Have to Agree
We sat contemplatively around the table, speaking softly about the struggles of marriage. I complimented her on her courage because for some reason, we feel shame when we admit our marriage is in trouble. I know because I’ve been there and felt it, too. I begin to share some of my own heart and experiences with my ten year old marriage, wisdom attained through the really hard places. Unfinished wisdom that still percolates and wisdom I know but don’t always allow my actions and choices to show it. I then share some heart changes I had to make in order ..