As a new mom there are two things I vowed never to do:
1) Drive a minivan; and
2) Wear mom jeans.
I have broken one of my vows. I’m now the proud owner of a minivan. And yes, I do mean proud. Seriously. You can’t knock it until you’ve driven one. There’s a storage compartment for everything: CDs, sunglasses, umbrellas, cupholders, garage door openers, spare change. You name it, there’s a nook for it. (And a spot for my Nook.) Plus, you can fit a double stroller, double wagon, two car seats, and five adults in one vehicle. At one time!
Since I was rather hasty about Vow 1, I decided to alter it: Never drive like a soccer mom in a minivan.
But there is no amending Vow 2. Fortunately, I haven’t worn any jeans with a nine-inch zipper and casual front pleats. (Thank you, Tina Fey, for the eloquent description.) Not even Jessica Simpson can pull off mom jeans. (You might remember the oh-so-important media frenzy a few years when Ms. Simpson wore a pair on stage.)
Sometimes, however, I fear the pleats aren’t far away. I have donned a pony tail way too much lately. There was a time in the not-so-distant past where my hair saw hot rollers on a fairly regular basis. Now I look like I’m channeling Tonya Harding. (Don’t worry, I’m not going to go around clubbing people in the knees because I’m jealous of their hair.) Just this morning I put on a pair of jeans that are a bit questionable. No pleats, but I may need to measure the zipper. I then topped it with a zip-up cardigan sweater. (Another item that must be carefully paired with appropriate bottoms.) I looked in the mirror and couldn’t believe my eyes. I was on the cusp of over-the-belly-button jeans and a button-up sweater vest adorned with kitty appliqués. I feared for my future.
So if you ever see me in a pair of denim with back pockets at my lower back, please, for the love of all that is holy, please give me a mom-jeans intervention.