Published on February 18, 2010—  Leave a comment

Reflections of a Mom

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This is a guest post by thredUP’s Chief Mom, Carly Fauth. Follow her on Twitter @clothingmom

A few days ago I was shopping with my 11 month old son, Ryker.  He was smiling and happily munching away on a cookie in the shopping cart.  I looked down and had to admire his cute little outfit…Gap jeans, a cable knit cream sweater with the collar of his red plaid button-down peeking out the top.  Even his little sneakers matched.  I had to pat myself on the back for how I dressed him that morning.  Too cute for words. 

Lost in the admiration of my cute little boy and inwardly praising myself for putting together such an adorable outfit, we passed a full length mirror and I happened to catch a glance of myself.  YIKES!!  I was shocked at the disheveled mess I saw staring back at me.  There I was, hair in desperate need of a highlighting –  pulled back in to a messy ponytail – pasty skin and what looked like remnants of my peanut butter sandwich on my chin.  Things didn’t get any better from the neck down.  Thank God I had a jacket on because it just dawned on me that I had forgotten to put on a bra.  What the hell had happened to me? 

Pre-baby I would never have been caught dead leaving the house like this!  Clothes, hair, makeup (and bras!) used to matter to me.  I was by no means a fashionista, but I did take pride in my appearance and least tried to make myself look “cute and sporty” when I had to run out for my early AM coffee and newspaper.  Standing there, I was reminded of a promise I made a few years ago.  I had been talking with a co-worker about where we saw ourselves in 10 years and he told me he could picture me as a “soccer mom”.  I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean it as an insult, but I would by lying if I told you this comment didn’t make me shudder, protest and gag.  Motherhood, at that point in my life, brought to mind tapered jeans, baggy sweatshirts, no makeup, and sensible shoes.  It meant trading in your Audi (though I never had an Audi, I wanted one…)for the ultimate “mommy” vehicle…the dreaded minivan.  I promised him, and myself, that although I may become a mother at some point, I would never become the stereotypical “mommy” and I would NEVER drive a minivan.  Yet, here I was, staring back at the reflection of someone who had clearly forgotten that promise. 

But, just like everyone tells you, actually becoming someone’s mother changes everything.  I never realized how selfish I was until I had my son.  There aren’t enough hours in the day for the both of us, so I choose to give him as many as he needs, and only if there are any extra, do I take some for myself.  I put myself second.  There have been many times I have left the house on a shopping mission (with a strict budget) for the sole purpose of buying myself some desperately needed new jeans (NOT tapered, of course!) or new shoes and I have come back with 6 new outfits for Ryker and nothing for myself.  Truth be told, shopping for him has become way more fun than shopping for myself!  Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy getting dressed up and I do try to at least put on some mascara and blush every day, but if I happen to leave the house, like I did that morning, looking like a “mommy”, I’m ok with it.  I actually smiled at myself in the mirror and had a little chuckle. 

But, I will promise you one thing, I will NEVER drive a minivan. Well, maybe if it’s an Audi minivan…