Okay, so here's my letter to the world. Here's my letter to all of the mamas out there who can relate and even to the ones that can't relate. Here's my letter to the future mamas, who while they are so stylish and cute, I thought I owed it to them to share why they may be a little "frumpy" later on. Here's my letter to my husband to say, "Hey, sorry I may be little frumpy." Here it is people and gosh, I hope this letter is shared because please God, tell me I am not the only frumpy one out here.
What is "frumpy" anyway? I'm pretty sure I didn't make this one up. Oh wait...googling...and bada bing, bada boom. Turns out it is a word and I was using it spot on. #winning
"Frumpy by definition means a woman (or her clothes) dowdy or old fashioned."
So yea, I'm not walking around in like, little house on the prairie dresses or moo moos even, but dowdy - yes - and I stick to basic clothes these days that are nothing super "fashionable" to brag about so yep. I think frumpy may fit.
I mean, I LOVE clothes actually. Give me all the boho, hippie vibes, casual tees and booties and I'm your girl. But let's get real here - I don't wear those things often. Even to the grocery store, it just doesn't happen. I'm not that girl. I'm not always that mom. Despite dreaming in my early twenties of looking like a dime (pahaha) with little kids, that crap just isn't reality people. I dress for comfort.
I can't prance around in wedges all day, jeans make me claustrophobic and cute tops get either stretched out from nursing sessions or stained with baby food. My hair doesn't get washed nearly enough and makeup is like for special occasions - and I mean like really - special occasions, folks. Trips to the doctor's office and grocery store just are not special. Jesus is lucky I consider church special - the Lord doesn't need me all up in his house looking frumpy (just kidding people).
But here's the deal. I'm tired folks. I get like two minutes and 33 seconds of sleep a night. My energy goes into making sure my children look good; that our home is clean and tidy, and that a wholesome meal is cooked (most nights). My clothes are on budget because there's other priorities that Dave Ramsey says I should roll with and you just don't argue with the Dave.
Truth of the matter is that I am okay with this though. I don't think being a mother means that you have to be frumpy all or any of the time by any means; nor do I think that stay at home mamas are automatically frumpy either (but pjs all day people). But as a mother of three little ones who can barely wipe their own butts (wait, actually none of them can), I'm totally cool with living through some frumpy years right now.
It's not about not wanting to try. It's not about being lazy and it's not about not wanting to look good. And it certainly isn't about getting lost in the role of motherhood that you forget who you are. However, sometimes motherhood can change and define you in new ways that make some things less of a priority. Or well, motherhood can just zap all the energy right out that truly make some things less of a priority.
It can be a little intimidating at times and even maybe those awkward moments of being surrounded by younger cousins or friends who look like they stepped out of a local boutique, but I am the one who gets to come home and tend to all of these beautiful, little humans. I am my own kind beautiful that I am learning to accept these days.
I am wearing the marks of motherhood. And I am wearing them proudly. And just like I know that one day I will sleep again, I know that one day I may be that girl who is confident and far from frumpy. But for now, I'll settle for full blown love and frumpy.
So that's my declaration to the world y'all. Just one tired, but hard loving mommy wearing the heck out of some yoga pants. AND pajamas.