Jul 12, 2010
I’d tossed off the lid to that plastic tub full of my old pre-pregnancy clothes weeks ago. The tub was in the very back of a very stuffy, very dark and narrow closet in my baby’s room, where I’d venture every week to shove my new-mama thighs into a pair of jeans to judge the progress my Wii Fit had wrought. I’d been sneaking into the closet to grab skirts with forgiving, wonderful elastic waistbands and lightweight sweaters and the like, bringing back into the light of my bedroom one or two pieces of clothes each week. First came the parka-like dress, and last week came the capris I thought I’d never wear again. That’s right: Never – because I’m so reasonable and optimistic when I’m pregnant. But Saturday I thought it was time to take this little charade out into daylight. I dragged the bin in front of my dresser drawers, which I’d emptied onto the bed. I rocked Lucy in the bouncy seat with my foot and coerced Abby to play with Mr. Potato Head in her room while I ceremoniously folded the last two pregnancy pants and put them in a garbage bag destined for a thrift store – wiped my hands, slap, slap, DONE WITH THAT. So I stood facing this Bin of Self-Esteem Issues and the empty drawers, and I started grabbing clothes I haven’t seen since the hair ties were no longer able to hold the fly of my pants together … About October or so. A few pants still don’t fit, but some did. SOME DID! My dresser saw shirts, skirts, pants that had been shunned last fall. Dave, who was (finally) fixing a towel rack in our bathroom that had been broken since mid April (‘m sadly not exaggerating), startled when I ran into the bathroom in a pair of white linen pants I’d forgotten I’d owned: “DAVID, LOOK. THEY BUTTON!” He dutifully ignored that whole muffin top thing and smiled. “Wow. Nice work,” he said. All that hula-hooping and warrior posing and all the walks with the Swift and Abby – SEE! I am getting my life back. That night I had a glass of white wine with dinner and we ate all at one time, with Lucy asleep in my arms. We ate peaches and ice cream for dessert and did I mention that towel rack is fixed!? That night we built tunnels with blankets propped between the coffee table and the couch, and we crawled-slash-chased Abby underneath them while Lucy slept in the swing. And I felt … normal. And happy. Confession – I’ve not felt that in months. Babies are a blessing. Babies are cute, yes. Yes. But I never laughed for real until I was wearing a pair of pants I’d forgotten I owned, while crawling after my 2-year-old under our tunnels. Insert “awws” here. And one big “whew.” And maybe a “yay!” too.