Flashback Saturday: Hip Mom Rule #1

I started these Hip Mom Rules when I was pregnant with my second child. Now that my children are older, it's fun to look back on these rules and see how they've shaped who I am as a mom to three boys as we head into their late elementary and middle school years. I'll be posting a new Hip Mom Rule every other Wednesday and a Flashback rule on the alternating Saturdays until I catch up! If you don't want to miss one, go ahead and subscribe! It would make my day. :)

 Hip Mom Rule #1: It Still Matters
I knew I shouldn’t do it. I know better. You NEVER wear brown leather shoes with black pants. 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!” Besides, with a good-looking husband and a cute toddler, who would really notice me anyway?

Once we got to the mall, I became increasingly irritated by my poor shoe selection. I'm normally more pulled together than this. My husband looked great; my toddler looked adorable. And please don't misunderstand. It wasn't that I cared a bit about what others thought of my outfit; it was all about the fact that I hadn't taken time to dress myself confidently. I was suddenly and acutely aware of how little time I had been spending on myself as I addressed the needs of my growing family.

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 let being tired prevent me from making at least SOME effort.

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 those  black pants, then so be it.

I want to be my best version of myself, and I see that as including being a hip mom. For that reason, I will continue fighting to maintain some semblance of my fashionable self in this new maze of dirty diapers, stained shirts, and perfume d’spitup.

Hip Mom Rule #16: Challenge Yourself to Realize a Dream

I got roped into it innocently enough. I was out for lunch with a couple of my girlfriends when the conversation shifted to a triathlon they were training for. It was several months off, but they were already in the middle of a serious training schedule.  “That sounds like a lot of fun!” I enthusiastically said. “Was I interested in doing it, too?” my hip friends asked. I was kind of interested in doing it. It had always been a long-shot dream of mine to complete a triathlon, but it was a silly dream because I don’t really swim. I know how to swim, but it’s more in a way of survival than in any kind of competitive form. Honestly, I have NO form, competitive or otherwise.

After a little bullying from my well-intentioned friends, I found myself registering for a triathlon that I was pretty sure I would cop out of at the last minute. Still, I went shopping for some hip goggles and a swim cap to complement my swimsuit, fully aware of the fact that I had never worn either one in my life and had no idea what I was doing (how in the world does one make a swim cap look hip?!). 

A couple nights later my friends called and invited me to the pool to practice for the triathlon. I agreed it was probably a good idea to get a couple laps under my belt before the tri in eight weeks. I hadn’t actually swum a lap since I was in college, but I’m pretty fit and determined and figured I could wing it. So, after spending five minutes trying to figure out how to put on the swim cap and how to adjust the goggles, I gingerly toed the water, and jumped in. The good news is that I didn’t drown. The bad news is that I spent a full two minutes clinging to the edge of the pool catching my breath, after one lap. I was going to have to take this swimming a little more seriously if I was going to survive the race.

For the next seven weeks I trained like I was in the army. I ran and biked one day. Ran and swam one day. Swam, biked, and ran. I worked harder than I have for many years, all the while trying to ignore the little voice in my head that was insisting that I was going to drown on race day.

“Well, if I’m going to die, I’m at least going to be hip about it,” I declared to my husband as I pulled out my new racing bra and racing pants. It was the night before the race, and secretly, we were both really proud of my pursuing this dream. “Might as well give it the old college try.”

And I did not cop out. I did not drown. I did not die. Unbelievably, I didn’t even come in last! I set a difficult goal, and I accomplished it. And this hip mom has had an extra spring in her step ever since crossing that finish line.

Hip Mom Rule #15: Pay attention to warning signs

I was just picking my kids up from their childcare when the fire alarm went off, shattering the otherwise peaceful environment of the building. The first blare of the alarm took us a little by surprise. The second blare startled my youngest. The third blare set them all off, crying and screaming to leave. My 3-year-old had just watched the fire safety video from the library, and I’m sure visions of a burning down building, fire trucks, water hoses, and imminent disaster were racing through his brain faster than he could process the situation. He started to panic and began pulling his younger brother and me toward the door with as much determination as I’ve ever seen him muster.

Meanwhile, well-intentioned adults came over to try to console him. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” they said. “It’s just a fire alarm.” As I hustled to get out the door to pacify my son and, to be honest, to get away from the annoying blare of the alarm, I pondered what had just been said. Just a fire alarm. No worries here. Fire alarms just warn us when there is a fire. A FIRE!

Okay, granted, it was just an alarm. There was no fire, and no permanent harm was done. But there was harm in teaching my children that the warning should be ignored.

As a hip and informed mom, I know there are warning signs everywhere, and it is hard to know when to heed them and when to let time resolve the situation. Surely, a hip mom doesn’t have time to take every breaking news story about the dangers of your carseat/dish soap/bubble bath/cosmetics/car model, etc. seriously. Who wants to be the mom that the hospital receptionist knows by name because you run your kids in to the doctor at every sniffle? And you cannot live in constant fear of the worst possible outcome and still be a calm, collected, hip mom.

Still, warning signs exist for a reason – some danger is lurking that could endanger you or your family. The trick is to learn which warning signs are real and which ones you can ignore. More importantly, a hip mom will discern which warning signs she wants her kids to take seriously, knowing full well that they are paying close attention to her every move. Personally, I want my kids to understand that a fire alarm means to get out of the building, even if it means leaving their coolest, favorite jacket behind. They can always go back and get it later. I might not always be able to go back and get them later.

Hip Mom Rule #14: Be on Time

Invariably, it happens as you’re walking out the door without a minute to spare. You reach down to zip up your toddler’s jacket and are immediately overcome by the unmistakable aroma of a fresh, full, poopy diaper, that has, of course, exploded out the back of the diaper and up the clean shirt you just put on him. No problem. You get the diaper changed, zip up the jacket, and finally head out the door, a little late. But wait; it’s time to feed the baby. No, the baby will not wait. She needs to be fed RIGHT NOW!! Resigned to the fact that you will be very late, you unzip the toddler’s jacket and sit down to pacify the baby with a quick snack.

Yes, this happens. Especially when you have an infant on hand. You never know what the next crisis will be, but you can bet that the minute you need to get out the door, a crisis will hit. And soon enough, you resign yourself to being chronically late.

New moms are given a lot of leeway in the timeliness department because veteran moms know that while you may have been able to get yourself out of bed and out the door in under forty-five minutes before you had children, there is no way you can do it with children. And it takes a long time for parents to realize that they need to add time to their routine for the mishaps that are guaranteed to happen.

I learned this lesson the hard way – as the victim of a chronically late friend. We would schedule a time to meet. I would scurry around, getting the diapers changed, feeding the baby, combing my hair, tossing on a hip (yet casual) outfit while throwing together a diaper bag, all in a mad dash to get out the door so I could be at the designated place at the designated time. Inevitably, I would show up on time and my friend would show up anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour later, always lamenting about how hard it is to get two kids out the door. I really like my friend, but being a hip mom with a busy schedule, I don’t have time to always wait and wait (and worry that something bad has happened), so eventually I stopped making plans to get together with her.

It is easy to blame our children for our inability to be on time, but truthfully, being on time is a matter of planning and foresight. And it’s important. If it takes you half an hour to get yourself ready to get out the door, plan on starting an hour early, because now you have more than just yourself to worry about. If a true disaster occurs, deal with it and call your friend to let them know you’ll be late. It isn’t easy, and you won’t always be on time, but a hip mom will make the effort.