She Can Can

I took the kabibbles today and went to Tyson's Corner. We had a mission which was to find Uncle Eric a birthday present. Who knew that sometime between leaving my house and entering the department store that I'd become one of those incredibly pasty frumpy mall moms that teenagers roll their eyes at and store owners abhor. You know the pesky store workers who follow around those poor exhausted moms anticipating their stroller (or the limo as I like to call mine) sideswiping merchandise and continuing to do same until half their shit is broken?

That was me today; I was that mom this afternoon. I guess that was even me yesterday but I don't know how this came to pass! I'm thinking it was sort of there with my firstborn but time hadn't yet taken the big poop on my physicality. It waited until number two arrived. THAT'S when all attempts at self preservation(and decoration) became muted by the sheer will to not scream and yell and become that kind of parent. Somehow making sure there isn't a constant pool of urine on the backboard of our toilets (potty training would be so much easier with a urinal) is taking precedence over me plucking my eyebrows or hiding blemishes (read: entire face) with foundation.

So, as we entered Macy's, Grayson announced that he'd like to walk. Like hell you will. You will not walk. You will keep those gangly legs immobilized and neatly tucked on their foot post thing for the duration of this shopping trip. I simply cannot make this work any other way. But what he heard was, "Hey look, Auntie Anne's pretzels! Let's get one!" I'm nothing if not the world's most unhealthy distractor. But it worked! Those little hands were so busy fumbling around with said huge twisted dough that he continued smacking at pretzel with all he had for over 45 minutes! Genius for a day. Ha, one for Mom.

So the cat-nappy baby and the carbohydrate-high boy were good as gold for me; sitting dutifully in their stroller, watching the fluorescent world go by. I totally took advantage of their graciousness by chatting on the cell phone for over one hour (it was a dear old friend but still- an hour!) while they were held hostage strapped in hot nylon seats staring at the trunks only of people walking by. It must've been one solid hour of belly overhang, exposed knees, and an occasional swishy floral skirt. Who am I kidding, we were at Tyson's and everybody was impeccably dressed. Think New York black and California coiffed. My first thought was, "Man, I need to go back to Target where my people are." And my second thought was, "Why are you people even here? You obviously already have some serious wardrobe to work with!"

After finally hanging up with my dear friend, I caught a glimpse of myself in one of those mall store mirrors. Jesus! Who WAS that? That woman didn't even look at her own reflection before leaving the house! She has not one ounce of make-up on that blemished and ohsofreaking spent face. That hair, OMG that hair. She obviously raked her fingers through that lifeless train wreck and called it done. Defeated before leaving her driveway! I can't even look at the pitiful rest of her. If those raggedy black flip-flops make it out of her house one more day I'm going to call Stacy and Clinton myself to remedy this situation. 2007 spring flip flops people. Need I say more?

Has that ever happened to you?

The sad thing? I was feeling pretty good about myself before starting out that morning. All of us had on clean clothes. We all had sparkling fresh teeth. Nobody had foul smelling socks. We even took the time to eat something not processed, drink something not apple juiced, remove the trashcan from the kitchen so it wouldn't be Sadie's last meal, and be on our merry way. Not bad for the three of us-and all before 2pm! Life was chipmunks and BRAVO until I passed that motherless mirror.

Wow, that's me. That really unattractive baggy bodied woman is really who I am right now. And what's worse? I'm all shiny from sweat. Sure I'm pushing 50 lbs of kid and pretzel but how unlady like to be profusely sweating all over these pretty and primped up mall go-ers?

So leaving myself no choice, I deny the urge to bolt from the mall entirely and own myself as I am. I am here, a shvitzy mom of two who needs to purchase a nice gift for her brother. I walk into Brookstone to buy some cool and useless stuff for Uncle Eric and the young guy at the register watches as I throw my hair up into a hideous nestwad because now I'm just marinating in the ugly. He smiles because I probably remind him of his own mom and I feel free.

Walking back into Macy's I release my hair from the dollar store hair clip it choked on. I rock my head back and forth to feel how long its become since having Abby. I'd blame the growth and new thickness on the prenatal vitamins but I stopped taking those (gasp!) during my second trimester with her. They weren't agreeing with the copious amounts of Zofran coarsing through my veins and believe me, I wasn't giving up my Zofran. I let my hair down and shook it out. Just to make sure I didn't resemble something dead on the side of 495 I risk another glimpse of myself in the Macy's mirror. And wouldn't you know, suddenly there was an entirely different woman looking back at me. She wasn't frumpy; she was well-oiled. She wasn't sweaty; she was glistening. And she wasn't pale; she was pink and she was strong. I smile at her, find a sampler of perfume and spray it on my wrists as we strut out the mall. "Can Can" was the scent. Perfect for today. Perfect for right now. I don't think I'm going to wash my wrists tonight. Let myself marinate in that for a change.