Old Mom category

I'm finding it interesting that as the years roll on for me, I'm much more accepting of things these days, that five years ago, I would have fought hard against.

Something must happen after turning 40, I don't know? But I'm OK with a lot of things that would have me fall into what I might refer to as the "old mom" category.

For instance, I refuse to buy another pair of low rise jeans. Now unless I hit the jackpot and can afford to hire a personal trainer and dietician, I'm guessing my sides are going be what they be and they just don't quite jive in the low rise jeans anymore.

Thank goodness stores are selling a mid-rise these days, unlike five years ago, cause mid-rise is calling my name. I did see some high-rise jeans, but that ain't happening. Either I'll look like I'm 80 or like I'm trying to be some hip 18-year-old. No dice. Anyway, I have convinced myself that, although the low rise jeans are cute and better enhance the backside, the mid-rise jeans are WAY less of a struggle throughout the day and are, dare I say it, more comfortable.

Comfortable sorta reeks of "old mom," doesn't it? But that's where I'm at. I don't want uncomfortable shoes just because they're cute and I won't spend a dime on them. I don't care if I only have a handful of shoes, as long as they're comfortable.

In fact, if I could wear tennis shoes every day, I'd be one happy chicky. I want comfortable shirts and sweaters, too ... long ones, that cover everything, which is tough for a tall person like me. I'm ready to pitch all my "fitted" tees and tight shirts. Get that nonsense outta my closet! They're a pain to keep in place, too restrictive and for Pete's sake, don't let me hide jack. If I have my low rise jeans on and a fitted T-shirt, then I gotta spend all day sucking in my gut. By 3 p.m., I've lost so much oxygen, I'm mumbling my words and get lost driving home.

Anyway, I'm ready to make things a little easier on me even if it means I'm getting older. Say what you will, but there is nothing wrong with getting ready for bed by 8 p.m. and heck, if the kitchen is clean, hit the sack by 9 p.m.

Don't judge, I read the more sleep I get, the longer I'll live so all you young moms feel free to stay up till midnight, but I'm done trying. Too hard to recover!

And this whole bifocals thing is peeking around the corner, too. I haven't caved yet, but I'm not afraid to have my kids read things for me. Little do they know, it's the just the beginning of all the lovely things they're going to have to do for me in the future.

There's just so much anymore. Like, I use the handrail on the stairwells more often cause I'm afraid if I bite it, it'll take me five months to recover.

I probably take way more vitamins than I need to but I figure better safe than sorry. I choose cleaner shows to watch on TV and could care less about what celebrity is getting divorced for the sixth time. I'd rather read the headline news.

All these changes that are moving me into a whole different mom category, and not only do I recognize all of them, I'm good with 'em. I'm not embarrassed. I just decided that basically being comfortable and happy is worth way more in the end so I'm going to head out to the store and get a couple new pairs of mid-rise jeans.

Might even take a nap after I get back home, after I take my garlic pill, of course!