I have spent the last two weeks in a last ditch effort to increase my coolness factor, and reduce or at least attempt to mask my mom-of-3-ness. I go back to work on Monday, to a whole new department, where I will be buying bath and body product (who's excited?!?! I only shrieked in excitement in the ear of my former boss when he called and told me - super professional and so cool of me!). I need to be as hip as this nerdy, lost somewhere in post-29 world mom can be. In a classic example of just how truly nerdy I am, I was out for coffee and dessert last night with two good friends (Happy Birthday B! and S, I would be happy to be friends with the good twin), in the hippest section of of the city, at 11 o'clock at night, and we spent the better part of three hours discussing theology and the Council of Nicene. But I digress.
So, I have been on a small shopping spree at all the hippest places - TJ's, Marshall's and Target obviously! I have bought sweater dresses/tunics and leggings, worn knee boots out of the house, tried skinny leg jeans and dress pants and all manor of long, wrappy sweaters. However, in the flurry of trying to shop while flailing frantically at the three small, store-destroying, scene-causing children, I bought a pair of jeans that looked as if they were identical matches to another pair of jeans I own, only down a size. It was only upon arriving back at that house, as I reached to remove the tags that I saw the two little words that are so not cool: Easy Rider. I had bought Mom jeans - I cried, but I kept them because they were so crazy comfortable
I had my nails done and my hair cut and colored - though there is no way to mask the damage done to my hair by Chicken Nugget. Absolutely no one tells you that after having a baby, large sections of your hair just, fall out! and have to regrow. I am either growing out thick bangs, or just living and loving my mullet - and please note that hair stealing baby is 2 years old and the damage is still very visible!
I have been watching trash TV - Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice and Gossip Girl by the hour (all while the children are sleeping of course - this is serious trash, in my book at least). But honestly, besides loving the fashion (that I could never fathom wearing, but hey, I am not Blake Lively and I, and thankfully, my husband have accepted this fact) and the true City feel ( I miss it!) I truly don't understand how they all so connected and ultimately disconnected by these "blasts" of gossip from some anonymous person. There is lots of dramatic pausing after dramatic text reading. This leads me to my most unhip trait.
Texting. When texting started, or at least when it started registering on my radar in 2004, I thought I could age gracefully past this phase, and join the world of post 29year olders who had no need for and no clue about texting. I make phone calls. I live for the phone, in fact, but I don't type on my phone. Unfortunately, everyone else my age did not make this decision to leave the texting to the younger folk. So now, I find texts 3 days later, I am constantly trying to text back in that ridiculous limited character space to friends about dinner plans that already happened, or the fact that they are running late (or more likely them finding out where the late Chicken is). Last week, I sent the exact same text to a person 6 times, and in the end, it actually wasn't a text to them. Add coworkers and bosses instant messaging me on my blackberry, and I am really in trouble. So I give up. I am not texting cool. I will DVR, blog, email and talk to my friends on my smartphone, skype, check my three sets of voicemail, facebook message and wall and chat, and even mobile upload from my ipod touch. I am as connected as I can be, but I will not text. That is my new line in the uncool, unhip sand around my streaky hair, mom jean, appliqued sweater wearing self.