Confession: I googled “shade” and “on point” to figure out how to use them correctly on a facebook post. Go ahead, throw some shade at me for that. (Thank you urbandictionary.com) Granted, “cool” has never been my strong suit. I still support “woot woot” and have been know to occasionally raise the roof. This, however, is a new level of oblivion. I call it the maternal blackhole. It’s a region of spacetime where any and all current events, trends and slang cease to exist. It’s like I’ve crossed over into this 4th dimension, a place where people who go to clubs, know how to mix patterned prints correctly and can sing along to the lyrics of rap songs don’t exist. (If I mumble enough know one will notice right?)
I currently own more elastic waist clothing items than I care to admit. I tell myself that yoga pants are not the gateway drug to mom jeans. I justify owning a Subaru Forrester with “at least its not a mini van.” And new music? Forget it. There’s only 2 songs that are allowed in our house. “You Are My Sunshine” and “The Hokey Pokey” are currently fighting for the top spot on the billboard hot 100 in the Fox resident. The closest I come to a pop star is I can ALMOST shoot whip cream out of my tits. (Thank you Katy Perry for that new breastfeeding visual.)
I can’t tell you about “Orange is the New Black”, I have no idea who headlined Capitol Hill Block Party and the newest spot for happy hour to me is my living room at 5pm. I sat in a suite for the Jay Z/Beyonce concert and I still think the coolest thing that’s happened all week is my baby rolling from back to tummy to back again. Instead of making a reservation to a hip restaurant where I can only pronounce half the menu, I’m searching homemade baby food recipes. Spinach/blueberry puree anyone? The only rocking I do these days is the kind that puts my sweet baby to sleep.
I’m not going to lie and say I never find myself missing my pre-baby life when grabbing a drink with the girls was a decision that affected only me. A lot has changed in a short amount of time and I’m still adjusting. What I can say is, hip and trendy is no longer important.
So go ahead, poke fun that I’m mastering the “mom” dance or that I’m still trying to figure out Instagram. (Yes, I realize I’m really late to the party on that one.) The only person I try to impress now is that child of mine. I would cut off my right leg to get her to giggle. Think I’m exaggerating? I’m currently in my 423rd hour of doing the hokey pokey just to see her to smile. She is truly the only “in” crowd I’ve ever cared about and if I can get her approval, life is good.
I may have lost my “cool” but I have gained my complete and utter joy. So let me RAISE THE FREAKING ROOF to that!