Confessions of a Mid 80s Baby

We all have deep, dark secrets. Today, I’ve decided to come clean. There are some things that just beg to be confessed. Here’s a small list of things that I once was ashamed of, but I’m ashamed no more.

Let’s start with leggings. While they are stylish and come in almost any pattern or color, I do not wear them for the looks. I wear them because I swore off “real pants” when I got pregnant the first time (…over five years ago). I haven’t invited “real pants” back into my closet since, so, naturally, my collection of leggings is thriving. Survival of the fittest isn’t just for the living.

Flo Rida, Kesha, and Lady Gaga could pump me up for ANYTHING. (Hello, 2008. I haven’t forgotten you.) Whether it’s a long run, a night of potty training, or parent-teacher conferences, these artists are my go to folks for the “I can conquer the world” surge.

I love my Honda Odyssey. It’s pretty much the Bat mobile of mom-life. Since it’s more tricked-out than any vehicle I’ve ever driven, I fell hard and strong and completely in love. Approximately 27 cup holders (even though it only seats eight–funny use of only here) and  a back-up camera that my kids think is a portal to another time and place: this is really all you need to keep your kids happy. Snacks (that fit in cup holders), drinks (that fit in cup holders), and a movie (does not fit in cup holders but it does nicely fit into the dashboard).

My kids always wear character clothes, and I’m ok with it. You will not find neutral-colored, organic clothing paired with those sweet moccasin shoes on any of my kids. I gave up the fight a long time ago. Paw Patrol and Minnie Mouse win in my house every day.  Mostly because I’m pretty sure Elliot is allergic to buttons and “church pants” AKA polos and anything that is not sweats. The allergic reaction (screaming fit followed by years of tears) is not worth it. Maybe some day they’ll make an epi-pen that works on kids allergic to khakis. Then I’ll be willing to give the more stylish clothes a whirl. Until then, the decision is pretty much between life or death, and that’s a no-brainer. {Shout out to Captain America and Ninja Turtles (and rain boots?)}

character shirts

A clean bathroom is the only thing I need to find a good buzz. And, no, I’m not talking about cleaning products that say to use only in well-ventilated areas. I mean the shine and shimmer of a really.clean.bathroom. The kind of clean that makes you feel like the room is bigger than before because you finally cleared out a bunch of random junk (old wall decor, nursing pads, three different types of leftover antihistamines) and that clump of cat hair off the floor.The kind of clean that smells like the absence of dirty diapers and man sweat (yes…I only need the absence of smells here). The kind of clean that sounds like a tub that is not struggling to empty because there is no longer a fat wad of hair clogging the drain. Spa shma. I just need a clean bathroom to feel good and relaxed.

Fiber supplements and probiotics make me a better person. I took my rock-solid digestive system for granted for about 30 years, and I eventually paid the price. Luckily, fiber comes in pill form, and can be taken up to three times a day. This is the one area of my life where “being regular” is so so so important to me.

I get a hang over in the middle of drinking a glass of wine. I don’t even have to finish it before I’m reminded of why I shouldn’t finish it. If I pair my wine with a perfectly timed dose of Tylenol and drink 8 oz of water for every 2 oz of wine, I might be able to make it through the glass before I get the shakes. I’ll have a bladder full of water that will keep me running to the bathroom, but, hey, at least the wine I’ve had will make me feel classy as I dash off to relieve myself.

I need Victoria’s Secret to come out with a bra size called the -A cup. Nursing destroyed those babies. The only thing there to fill my swimming suit top is extra skin. I have to make sure the top is tight enough to hold it all in place. Sometimes I consider having another kid and pumping for the rest of my life just so I can have some curve up on top. This might be a real possibility if I had ANY interest in every seeing a breast pump again.

Most of these things weren’t on my radar even just five years ago. But there’s something about hitting the big 3-0 with three kids under your belt that makes you feel like even your guiltiest pleasures and ugliest truths aren’t so bad. I’m sure the list will only grow as I age. With age, comes acceptance…of the good, the bad, and the total lack of boobs.


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