Hip Mom Rule #7: Be Interesting

. . . there is more to life than your children.

I had had one of those weeks where it seemed liked every time I turned around, I ran into a pile of dirty clothes, stepped in a pile of crumbs, tripped over a pile of toys . . . piles, piles, piles. And to make it more aggravating, my youngest was trying to walk and couldn’t quite figure it out, so he was attached to the backs of my jeans using me as a giant walker. The oldest was bored of the rain, bored of his toys, and bored of his brother not being able to walk. In short, I needed a night out.

I called my friend, also a hip mother of small children and said, “Girl, this week has kicked my butt. I need to get out. Are you in?” Of course! What mom isn’t ready to ditch the family life for a night out with a friend sans children? I was REALLY looking forward to this; I really needed it. We met at a hip coffeeshop with low lights and comfortable couches. I wore a hip outfit that melded with the fun atmosphere of the coffeeshop. I fixed my hair and make up. I anticipated great conversation, new ideas, and a break from the routine of daily mothering.

Instead, we talked about kids, or rather she talked about her kids. The entire time. I kept trying to divert the conversation to the news, religion, taxes, fashion, celebrity gossip, anything that didn’t directly involve poop, spit-up, or potty training. The night was a colossal failure. I returned home from my big night out more enervated than I was when I left.

Now don’t get me wrong – I love to talk about my kids as much as the next parent, but I crave conversations that don’t always revolve around the kids. I crave adult conversation. To get that, I need to have something interesting to talk about. So, I read the paper on Sundays, I belong to a bookclub and read at least one book a month, I watch a couple minutes of the news each day or listen to NPR on the radio. I don’t devote a lot of time to it (because, seriously, as a new mom wouldn’t you rather take a nap?), but I do enough so that if I happen upon another person craving conversation involving more than diapers and sleeping routines, I can actually contribute in some small meaningful way.

In short, it can be hip to chat up your little cherubs. It’s fun to share the trials and tribulations of motherhood. But it’s the hip mom way to have other things to talk about, too, especially if your big night out is with a friend who has her own little cherubs waiting for her at home.

Hip Mom Rule #6: Just because you can get it on doesn't mean you should wear it

In every mother’s closet, nestled deep in the darkness of the back corner, lies a tub of clothes that once fit. These are what we affectionately call the “pre-baby” clothes. These clothes are the measuring stick by which new mothers will gauge their success in losing the baby-weight. There is great pride in being able to say that you are wearing your pre-baby jeans. But, truth be told, not everyone should be wearing their pre-baby jeans. Ever.

Like every other new mom, I tried on my pre-baby jeans just six weeks after my first baby was born. I had lost a ton of weight and was sure I was back to my old self. Well, let me tell you, there is nothing on this earth that was going to be able to slide my thighs into those jeans. Dejected and demoralized, I put them back in the tub and shoved the tub to the back of my closet.

Almost three years later, one year after the birth of my second son, I again pulled out that tub of clothes. What a day. Those jeans slid on. They were a little snug, sure, but they were on. Now I could join the ranks of women who were in their pre-baby jeans, right?

When I came dancing down the stairs to gloat to my husband, I did not get the reaction I was expecting. First of all, a hip mom should know that just because you can zip them up doesn’t mean they look good. They were snug. Okay, I could barely sit down. Second of all, these jeans were cool four years ago. Jean styles don’t change a lot, but they do change. A hip mom knows this.

My other great insight -- babies change women’s bodies a lot! I used to be able to shop in the juniors section, but in reality, very few moms who have had babies wear junior size anything! So I did what any hip mom would do. I went to the store. I found a great sale on some trendy, well-fitting jeans. I bought a couple of pairs in the smallest size that I have worn since the babies were born. I pulled them on, effortlessly, and looked in the mirror. I may never again have the small hips of my pre-baby self, but with my new jeans, I look pretty good. Okay, really good. And I can sit down and breath at the same time.

Use your old clothes as a guide. Let them inspire you. But let them inspire you to get in shape and accept your new hip momness! Then reward yourself with new clothes. Stay hip. Don’t let the joy of fitting into your pre-baby clothes sabotage your efforts at being the hippest, coolest mom around.

Hip Mom Rule#5: Eat Like an Adult

Does this look familiar? Lunch menu at the Burns’ household: Monday – macaroni and cheese. Tuesday – macaroni and cheese. Wednesday – macaroni and cheese. Thursday – well, you get the picture. I didn’t realize I had a problem until my husband came home from work the other night and asked what was for supper. “Leftover macaroni and cheese,” I replied. His eyebrows rose to the top of his face and I could tell that this was not what he was hoping for.

The beautiful thing about boxed mac’n cheese is that it is quick, it is easy, and toddlers and infants alike can chew it. All you really need on the table is a bowl and a spoon. It takes so little effort.

That night I had a terrible realization as my family enjoyed yet another delicious dish of leftover mac’n cheese. There was little difference between my toddler’s manners and my own. I’m not saying that I was throwing my food on the floor or wiping it in my hair, but when you eat toddler food every day, you tend to start eating like a toddler. I was huddled over my plate, trying to shovel in as much as I could WITH MY SPOON before my toddler started demanding that I share with him. It was so mushy that I hardly had to chew before swallowing. I took a drink of water after every bite, apparently trying to wash down the residual taste of the processed cheese. My napkin was crumpled. My clothes were so dirty from caring for two little boys all day that I just wiped the crumbs onto my pants. Yes, you read that right. I wiped my hands on my pants. Wow. I’m eating with a spoon and using my clothes as a napkin. Not very hip-mom-like.

Okay, so who has time to cook elaborate meals when they have young children? Unless you have a cook or a nanny, you don’t. Fortunately, a hip mom doesn’t have to devote her entire afternoon to satisfying her palate and creating meals that demand a fork and a little better table manner. Get a “good and easy” cookbook. You can still try new recipes to satiate your adventurous, hip side, but you don’t have to try to squeeze in an entire day of cooking to do so. And really, what toddler wouldn’t benefit from eating an adult meal now and then?

Trust me. This one is worth the effort. You do not want to be the one hip mom, finally out to dinner on a date with your hip husband and not remember how to eat food with a fork or recognize that grilled-to-perfection piece of food on your plate that just might be something worth chewing!

Hip Mom Rule #4: Be a Hip Mom Under Pressure

I usually consider myself a levelheaded person with decent reserves of patience. I can handle both kids yelling for my attention right when the phone rings. I can handle being pooped on, spit-up on, vomited on, and cried on. A hip mom is a patient mom.

But there are days when even the most patient mom is tested. I never hand my two-year-old my keys when we are out. I have a slightly irrational fear of him throwing the keys into oncoming traffic (actually, it’s not that irrational – he did throw a rock out his window once while we were traveling 75 mph down the interstate, narrowly missing the car behind us). It’s a small thing, but as we’ve learned in life, it’s the small things that make or break a hip mom. So, keys in Mom’s pocket.

Then one day . . . I took the boys to the Art Museum, thinking I was being on the cutting edge of hip-momness by taking my children to such a cultural experience while so young. Let me tell you, it made a serious dent in my patience reserve. First of all, it was well below freezing outside, so the kids and I were bundled up so tightly we could hardly put our arms down (Christmas Story anyone?), and then I had to schlep our coats, hats, and mittens all over the museum without bumping into any priceless art. Then my oldest discovered the echo-factor of the different galleries and a contest emerged between the two kids. Other museum patrons shot me daggers while the security officers stifled giggles.

After forty-five minutes, I decided this cultural trek needed to end, as my patience was growing quite thin. We began the process of bundling back up. I put the boys’ coats and mittens on. I handed Joe my keys and put on my hip coat and mittens, complete with matching scarf. As we stepped onto the elevator, I thought to myself, “Where are my keys” just as I heard the keys hit the floor and the elevator doors efficiently snap shut. Crap. When the doors finally reopened, I peered through the gap in the floor and saw my keys glittering happily at the bottom of the elevator shaft. “I’m a hip mom. I will not lose my cool,” I muttered to myself.

It took twenty minutes and the complete shutdown of the main entrance elevator to retrieve my keys. This time the security staff made no effort to conceal their amusement. I graciously thanked them as I straightened my hip coat, gloves, and matching scarf. It was mightily embarrassing, but I kept my cool, just as any hip mom would.

Hip Mom Rule #3: Trust Yourself

Parenting has become an increasingly popular area for study, critique, and self-help books. Each new published expert has, of course, discovered the best way to raise the cutest, smartest, most capable children. Any mom, who is at all hip, is familiar with all the latest trends.

No hip mom in her right mind is going to express her opinion on parenting without first being able to qualify her statement with, “Well, if you take the time to read Braselton” or “According to Dr. Sears . . . and it’s really been working for us!” Interestingly, few of these experts actually agree, so even if you do adhere to a particular philosophy, you will often run into opposition as you meet other hip moms who embrace the ideals of the other fashionable experts.

But I digress. Before I had my first baby, I was full of ideas and opinions on what makes a good parent. I read the newest books and surfed the most popular webpages. I was well on my way to being the most educated, hippest mom around.

From my reading, I made a list: No pacifier before four weeks old and NEVER as a comfort measure for sleeping, never crawl into bed to soothe a fussy toddler to sleep, no juice before two years old and absolutely no soda pop, no candy, never give in to a temper tantrum, don’t rush the kids to the doctor for the sniffles, never use bribery in lieu of healthy redirection, and never freak out if your child isn’t at a particular developmental milestone at any given time (as if any mother really compares her child to the other children in the playgroup, right?).

So there we are, driving along the interstate in the middle of a several hour road trip –a hip, cool mom and a screaming, unhappy toddler. I try Veggie Tales. I try singing. I try a sippy cup. I repeat my mantra, “I’m a hip, cool mom” over and over to myself. Finally, out of desperation, I do the unthinkable – I pass back a package of m&m’s. Viola. Happy toddler. Now we are a traveling duo of one sheepish hip mom and one contented toddler. Three “nevers” out the window in one weak moment – bribery, candy, and giving in to a tantrum.

A hip mom knows that the experts are good resources, but ultimately every kid is unique and every situation is unique. Trust your instincts. Give in occasionally. And for all those out there who have an opinion on your parenting methods, always be ready with a cleverly worded, “Well, it’s a pretty revolutionary idea, but according to . . .”

Hip Mom Rule #2: It's really about the small things

Raising two young children has left me very little time to take care of myself. But, I realized I had let things slip a little too much when I crawled into bed the other night and the bottoms of my feet snagged my new sheets. Yes, they literally pulled threads out. With morbid curiosity, I pulled my foot up to my face and examined my forlorn feet. The polish was chipped, the toenails looked like caveman nails, and the soles were so rough I could have grated Wisconsin cheese on them.

I ran to the bathroom and took a critical look at myself in the mirror. When had my scientifically enhanced red hair returned to its natural dishpan brown? When was my last haircut? And my pores! They looked like a kid’s connect-the-dots coloring book. How could I not notice these little things?

Everyday I do little things. I make toast for breakfast. I pick up toys. I wash little hands. I comfort, entertain, and love two little boys. Everything I do is important, but nothing I do is terribly difficult, time-consuming or monumental. If asked about my day, I would have nothing amazing to report. But, it’s doing all those little things that keeps me sane, keeps my kids sane, and keeps my household functioning.

I never say that I don’t have time to do these little things, because I know that if I stopped, I would never be able to catch up. Each task would seem enormous. It is the same with being a hip, pulled-together mom. So what if I don’t have time to sit at the beauty salon and have professional facials, pedicures, and hair coloring jobs on a regular basis; I can still find time to take care of myself the way I did before having a family. I just need to stop feeling like it’s an all or nothing proposition. And I definitely can’t let it go so long that my feet begin to resemble my 85 year-old grandfather’s feet!

Tonight’s “To do” list: Laundry, dishes, paint toenails, change sheets on kids’ beds, facial, relax.

Hip Mom Rule #1: It Still Matters

I knew I shouldn’t do it. I know better. You NEVER wear brown shoes with a black sweater. But, being 33 weeks pregnant and exhausted from a day of chasing around an 18-month old, I thought, “Who is really going to care what color shoes I have on when I can’t even see my own feet!”

So, I chose to walk out the door in my brown shoes and black sweater. Seriously, with a good-looking husband and a cute toddler, who would really notice me anyway?

Once we got to the mall, I became increasingly self-conscious of my poor shoe selection. Everywhere I looked, I saw well-put together women who had chosen to follow the fashion rules. I felt like Janet Jackson after SuperBowl 2003 – major wardrobe malfunction!! I was miserably conspicuous. Women everywhere seemed to wonder what a well-dressed man like my husband was doing with this fashion train wreck at his side. All because I didn’t take the time to change my shoes.

The thing with pregnancy and new momhood is that we tend to put others’ needs well before our own. By the time we catch a glimpse of ourselves in the mirror, we barely resemble the put-together, hip women that we used to be. Instead, a bedraggled, exhausted woman stares back. At no time in my pre-baby life would I have been too lazy or tired to care how I looked.

A hip mom won’t be “put-together” every time she walks out the door, but this hip mom will NOT walk out the door again just not caring. Therefore, I will not leave for Target in my sweat pants. I will not be in my pajamas when my husband gets home from work. I will not go three days without washing my hair, and then cover the evidence with an old, dirty baseball cap. Black pants, black socks. And if this means asking my husband to tie the shoelaces on the only shoes that match that black sweater, then so be it.

I am a fashion conscious, hip mom, so I must continue fighting to maintain some semblance of my fashionable self in this new maze of dirty diapers, stained shirts, and perfume d’spitup.