The attack of the Mom Shoes

It gets worse. Not only am I now a blubbering wreck at anything vaguely emotional, a Pod Person who talks about nothing but her kids, and someone who’s in bed by 10pm every night, I am now also the (embarrassingly) proud owner of Mom Shoes.

You know the kind: ugly but bloody comfy as hell. The kind we swore blind in our teens and 20s that we’d never be seen dead in. The kind our own moms used to wear on those Forced Family Fun afternoon walks.

I was talking with a fellow mama recently and we agreed that having children has changed our mindset  to such an extent that it permeates into every single part of our lives in a way we never thought possible. It means struggling to relate to deliberations over fashion choices being discussed by child-free friends (all I can add to the discussion is “But is it comfortable??”). It means zoning out of discussions about the latest movies because trips to the cinema are a distant memory. It means sometimes feeling like going out to paid work is a relief. It means spending more time make-up free and letting the grey hairs grow through because hair appointments are impossible to attend, afford or justify. And it means ALWAYS choosing comfort ahead of appearance!

I get the whole Yummy Mummy thing; who wouldn’t want to be that glamorous mama? But it just seems like an impossible task. I spend my days doing chores, thinking of ways to entertain two crazy toddlers (whose attention span is usually about 10 minutes), lugging said toddlers and associated paraphernalia in and out of the car or pushing said kids in the buggy (why do they have to keep growing?!?). It comes to something when your local friendly family butcher tells you you’re looking tired!

There are times I make an effort and it does feel good but those times are few and far between. At least I know that there will come a day when I’ll have time to make the effort more often, though by that point, my girls will probably be wearing their own make-up, cool clothes and beautiful shoes, and I’ll just be their out of touch, old hag of a taxi driver! The only way is up!

My Kid Doesn't Poop Rainbows

3 thoughts on “The attack of the Mom Shoes

  1. I wasn’t that yummy in the first place so it was always going to be an uphill battle. Thank heavens for work otherwise I’d probably never put on skirts or make up….or underwear.


    Liked by 1 person

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