Night out

Confession: I spend most of my days on the frumpy side of life. As a work-from-home mom, my signature look is a ponytail, jeans and a t-shirt. My makeup is limited to one coat of mascara and a bit of blush—and that’s on a good day.

Before baby came along, I had the extra time to blow out my hair, put on a full face of makeup, and change clothes three times before I found the “right” outfit. Now, I’m lucky if I remember to put on shoes before I walk out of the house. (I wasn’t so lucky a few days ago…)

As a general rule, I’m okay with my new low-key way of life.

But while sharing with you a couple of weeks back about how Tom and I had yet to venture out on a date since J’s birth, it hit me that it had been some time since I had looked like a woman instead of just a mom.

So, after ten months of all-baby-all-the-time, Tom and I enlisted a sitter (shout out to our amazing friend Stephanie!) to stay with Jacob for the night.

I straightened my hair, put on not one but two coats of mascara (go big or go, er, stay home is my motto), pulled on my favorite night-out top and my college-era skinny jeans—for the first time since Jacob was born, might I add—then stepped back for a look. I then channeled my inner Maria and burst into song: “I feel pretty! Oh, so pretty!”

(Okay, so I’m kidding about that last part, but I did feel more hot mama then hot mess for a change.)

Next, we put the little mister to bed, made sure he was sound asleep, then slipped out the door. It was one small step over the threshold, but it was a giant leap for my motherhood and my womanhood.

As we drove away from the house, I felt like Tom and I were on our first date—a little of unsure what to say and how to act. I think I even “nervous laughed” a time or two. Of course, that didn’t last long, and by the time we got to the Starbucks then the movie theater (typical, I know!), it felt just like old times.

For those hours, we were like a couple of newlyweds instead of an old married couple with a kid (ha!), and it was wonderful. Still, by the time the closing credits began to roll, I was more than ready to take off my blister-inducing shoes, throw my hair up in a pony tail, trade my suck-it-in top for a comfy tee, and most importantly, sneak a look at our sleeping manchild.

What can I say? I guess you can take this mama out of the ‘hood (the neighborhood, that is), but you can’t take away her mamahood no matter what. And, frumpy or not, I wouldn’t have it any other way.