The Slippery Mom Jeans Slope

I used to think the phenomenon of "Mom jeans" happened when moms stopped caring what they looked like and didn't pay enough attention to stay on top of current trends.  Recently I realized there are practical reasons why moms might prefer a higher rise.  Low rise jeans are great when your activities include sitting and walking around.  Low rise jeans are even great for the first 1.5 trimesters of pregnancy, when your bump is small enough that their low waistband still rests comfortably beneath it.  Low rise jeans are especially great for when you want to fit into your pre-pregnancy jeans as soon as you return home from the hospital after delivering your baby.  But low rise jeans are not great for when you spend the majority of your time bending over to pick up your baby and sitting on the floor to play with her.

I used to spend a lot of time thinking about my clothing-- I even blogged about it for almost a year.  I got a lot of pleasure out of putting outfits together.  These days, most of my energy regarding clothing is devoted to finding clothing meets the following criteria:
1) Fits my slightly modified shape comfortably
2) Easily facilitates nursing 8-10 times a day
3) Is machine washable
4) Keeps me from exposing myself during various mothering activities
5) Is affordable, especially since I'm replacing much of my daily wardrobe for the second time in two years.
Once in a while I find an item which meets all 5 criteria perfectly, which explains why I currently own five different versions of the exact same Target crossover dress.  Variety of style or silhouette is no longer a priority.  It's no longer practical to use statement jewelry to add personal flavor to an ensemble.  If I didn't enjoy clothes as much as I did pre-pregnancy, I can see why I might not care enough to put in even this much effort.

So it goes with my hair, as well.  While pregnant I kept it long because Krista told me I'd have days where the only thing I'd feel good about was my thick, shiny, long hair and because my hairdresser told me she "refuses" to change a woman's hairstyle significantly when she's pregnant because they always end up regretting it.  My face never got chubby while I was pregnant, but the rest of me felt enormous, so I was thankful to have lush, beautiful hair there at the end.  I cut most of it off shortly after giving birth to Nora, and then somehow another 5 months passed before I made it back to the hairdresser.  This time I cut it even shorter.  Why?  Because my daughter's new favorite trick is pulling my hair and putting it into her mouth to suck on it.  I generally let her do whatever makes her happy, but this is where I have to draw a line.  Gross.

Here's a photo Billy took today of my new look. Obviously I'm not posting this because it's a good picture of me.  It's also not a perfectly accurate representation of my hair, either, which I think looks a bit longer than it is because of the angle of my head.  It barely fits behind my ear.  I'm going ahead with posting this photo because, in this picture, I look about the same as I feel most of the time these days: haggard.  I love my baby.  I don't begrudge her the nighttime feedings because I love nursing her and I'm glad she's healthy.  But motherhood takes a toll.  And yes, this is one of the 5 dresses from Target.  Plus, how funny is Nora's face here?  I've never seen this smile before in all my time with her; it's like she already knows how to fake a smile for a picture.

The other reason I cut off my hair was because before the chop, it was long enough to fit into a ponytail, so you can guess how it ended up most days.  That wasn't doing anybody any favors.  Now that practicality is key, I'd also like to boast that I can finally transform my hair from soaking wet to dry and styled in under 10 minutes.  How?  Because I purchased a new supersonic blow dryer upon the recommendation of a childhood friend-turned-Vegas-cocktail-server that is a.maze.ing.

So on the one hand, I think I look like a version of my old self most days: I'm clean, my hair is styled, my outfit looks put together, and I'm not exposing any parts of myself that my mother or my daughter would find embarrassing.  On the other hand, I realize that I'm getting dangerously close to becoming that mom who has a uniform that consists of a helmet hairstyle, a pair of high waisted jeans, and some version of the exact same shirt every day.  So dear friends, please feel free to stage an intervention whenever you see me slipping too far down this slope.  You're welcome to tell me I've let myself go, so long as you follow it up by leaving Nora with someone else in order to whisk me off to Annapolis mall to visit my hairdresser and purchase new clothes.  But I've forewarned you about my criteria, so I hope you've done some pre-scouting to make sure I'll find something that works.  : )