So I'm a stay at home mom. If you are one of these yourself, you probably don't need any further explanation. But if not, here goes. I stay home. ALL DAY LONG. My errands are pre-school drop off and library hour. Grocery store trips and visits to the pediatrician. I could spend my entire life in yoga pants and, except for church, I don't think anyone would notice.
Now I'm immensely grateful I am able to stay home with my kids. I love experiencing their young lives. But let me tell you, it's a sacrifice. The total loss of real income for one. Exiting the career world completely. The mind numbing monotony of it all. I've mentioned in previous posts that this field of mommy-hood isn't exactly my style. I love it and I think I'm good at it, but it isn't my natural element.
Getting back to tonight. Tonight is Shane's company Christmas party. When we got the invite and I saw it was semi-formal at a beautiful hotel I was ecstatic. I love dressing up and going out. Love love love it. I love wearing my highest heels without worrying about tripping while holding a child. I love to wear my nicest clothes without worrying about sticky hands and snot. I like carrying a tiny clutch with only the barest necessities. All of it reminds me about who I was before I was "mom".
So here I am. Dressed to the nine, hair in a up-do that required about 50 bobbypins and half a bottle of hairspray. My nails are manicured with a soft silver paint and I pulled out the "good jewelry". I look seriously great. Except for the fact that my carefully shadowed eyes are blood shot from crying. I just got off the phone with the babysitter letting her know we would not be needing her after all.
Shane's flight from Portland was delayed and won't be home until after the party is over. I didn't notice I was crying until I saw the drip marks on my gorgeous new shoes.
I'm going to bed. When I wake up, I have several pairs of yoga pants in the dryer to choose from.