Miss expression
Many years ago I stood in front of a display of $300 jeans at Caban in Vancouver, disgusted.
What kind of frigging idiot would spend $300 on a pair of jeans?
<stares, scowling, at rack>
I mean, it’s just JEANS.
<contemplatively fingers rows of denim>
This is obscene. There’s no way — NO WAY — there is any difference between these and a pair of $40 Gaps.
<absently scans rows for sizes>
What’s this… ‘Japanese ring-spun’? Hmph.
<looks over shoulder, both ways: unobserved.>
What a crock.
<object in question leaps of its own volition from rack into hands>
I will prove — right now — that these jeans are the rip-off of the century. I will do this by trying them on.
<AAAHHH. OOOHHHH. YEEEAAAH.>
Over the following year I didn’t buy a single pair. I bought THREE. And after that I put $1000 through a shredder and knit myself a scarf with the resulting paper pulp.
Why is this relevant, you ask? To demonstrate the hairsbreadth depth of my soul? The bottomless pit that is my circa 2004 credit debt? No, friends: no. It is anecdotal proof that I was once One Of Them.
I know, intimately, the jealous affection for the lifestyle of effing pussies such as myself, circa 2004. You may be child-free and not be shallow and not drink $10 cocktails until 4 AM and not test the validity of $300 jeans for the good of all humanity. But I was, and I did.
A quick note, by the way, about effing pussies.
A few of you have said this is your space, and you can say whatever you want. While I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t quite see it that way.
This has turned from a mere outlet to a community of friends, and you’re all mind-blowingly candid and thoughtful and inspiring. You give back so much. While I’ll never censor myself, I owe it to you to give some words context. To make sure they don’t land on you with the grace of a cast-iron pot to the head.
Especially ones with ‘f*cking’ in front of them.
When some of you said your words felt like a slap I was instantly horrified, and realized something: many of you only know me as The Mama Who Lost A Baby from the writing of the last few months. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to drum up the usual facetiousness. Blogging is tricky that way. Some of what you write as if laughing or ranting in the kitchen with a cold beer in hand can come across on-screen as severe, as condemnation or manifesto.
Such as clearly, as is obvious to every parent, every person without children has:
- Chocolate and red wine for breakfast
- Trapeze-aided bedroom relations ten times per day
- Toilet paper folded into hotel triangles after every tear
- Two-seater sports cars with plates that read 2KUL4U
- 100% dry-clean-only wardrobes
- Narry a care in the world
And every parent has the polar opposite for eternity and beyond.
Please don’t ever make me disclaim, after something like that: I AM MOSTLY NOT COMPLETELY SERIOUS.
Besides — we were pussies, compared to now. We had no idea how easy and how carefree our lives were. That’s not condescending. That’s the truth for us.
I’m proud that we lived that way, had just-us time. The memories are so rich that I can honestly say I wouldn’t run back into our burning house for anything material (except for those jeans). Yet I’m also proud of how far we’ve come, abandoning the just-us days in favour of our gorgeous boys, all three.
I’m only judgy about certain things. Eggplants and the people who eat them. Two-stroke dirtbikes. Pancakes that are fluffy rather than dense. Religious fanaticism. Bugs. Beekeeper suits. Jellyfish and the people who don’t mind them. Raggedy toenails.
Do I think I’m somehow more entitled or enlightened than sans-kid folks? Abso-fricking-lutely.
For about ten seconds.
Then, reflecting on the Toyota 4Runner and the kayaks and the ski trips and the acrobatic love life and the kitten heels and pedicures of pre-2005, I change my mind, and decide that I am entirely nuts.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Reader Comments (66)
i'm glad we enjoyed the snot out of our pre-kid life together, fancy jeans and drinking our faces off and all, and i'm even more glad that now we are enjoying the snot (sometimes literally) out of this child-filled life now. it would be weird to be those people now, just as it would have been weird to be doing this then. we are lucky to be going at our pace and blessed to be living our life the way we do. hang in there. i'm still convinced the "us and them" isn't kid vs. kidless. ykwim.
i really liked those fancy jeans i used to buy. and the sex. yes, the trapeze-style sex. not the cocktails, i like a plain old guiness. and do you really like dense pancakes verses fluffy ones? oh, kate, we just can't be friends...
i love youmarybeth
Kira: both, now that you mention it.
you say it all so well.
and i'm glad you're canadian.
rock on.
and 2 stroke dirtbikes...amen.
(Again, mostly not serious.)
I love fluffy pancakes, though. I could dive into a pile of them right now.
morons.
BTW - i was eating pretzels dipped in chocolate after an evening joint the other night and thought of you.
And for the record - at no time is eggplant ever an appropriate choice for nourrishment. Never. Zucchini, yes. Squash, sometimes. Pumpkin - only for pies.
I echo what erin said - so cool that you are a Canadian, and a Maritimer to boot. If only I had a flag to wave, but then I might be perceived as rude and insensitive...the greatest fear of most Canadians, eh???
Or maybe that's wishful thinking.
Everyone should just be blessed,however your life is.
I love reading your posts.Take care.
Sincerely,the Co-President of the Eggplant, It's Better Than Food! Society
And Aina, I wasn't insulting eggplant. I was insulting people who eat eggplant.
tee hee.
I don't have anything eloquent to say, I just thought I'd write SOMETHING since I've been reading your blog for so long and really appreciate the honesty (and humour!) that goes into your writing.
I used to drive a Lexus, now I drive a Matrix with no options, covered in dog hair, sippy cups and Annie's Cheddar Bunnies. Once in a while I miss my heated leather seats, but if I sit in the driver's seat after my dog has been sitting there for a while, that feeling goes away. And I never spent $300 on jeans, but I did spend nearly $1000 on a DKNY leather jacket and I pull it out of the closet every once in a while... but truthfully I wouldn't trade my not-so-perky boobs for anything because of the experiences I've had as a mom.
Love your posts.
anyway... hope :)
oh, and just a thought - maybe it's the $300 jeans that bring on the crazy sex... ever thought of that?! hot jeans can take you places!
But there's something about waking up to a huge nine-toothed grin and a small pudgy hand insistently poking a pacifier in my ear that the BC me would have never appreciated.
This post had me thinking about my pre-child days. Yes, there’s a huge gulf between the childless and us breeders. It’s not to say that people sans enfants can’t live out significant/relevant existences. Some of the most powerful, giving and effective people don’t have kidlets. They’ve decided to devote their time and energy elsewhere. However, my pre-kid existence was fairly frothy. I had my first child when I was 37 so I had plenty of time for martinis, exotic travel to places like Africa and Belize, and a closet filled with literally more than 100 pairs of shoes. I wouldn’t trade that time for the world, but I would say it was a time with some wonderful high’s, but mostly loneliness. There’s a Third Eye Blind song with the line, “I’ve never felt so alone … I’ve never felt so alive.” That pretty much sums it up for me. It was also a time of stain-free clothes, being able to take a leisurely shower and not have to wolf down my food in 10 seconds flat. That being said, I think I’m happier now, even though having kids means subjecting yourself to pure terror … mostly being afraid of what you now have to lose, but also the everyday worries of minor accidents, illnesses, why are they crying, etc. With three children under the age of three, it is extremely stressful, but I truly love it.
Thanks for sparking all these debates and thoughts. Your blog is so interesting and the readers’ comments are all so articulate and intelligent.
Especially the bit about the fabulously articulate commenters.
I'm in the camp with folks who didn't do anything all that decadent pre-kids (other than showering or going to the store without an entire tactical team to plan it.) I've always been one of those hyper-responsible folks who always seemed to have a huge plateful of responsibility, even at 16! But it pales in comparison to my life now.
People told the hubs and I (we married at 18) that we should do all this fun stuff before we had kids, but we just didn't feel like we could. There was college and work and grad school and work and then kid, kid, kid, working all the while. Now, I'm kicking myself that we didn't at least travel. Sigh.
We have plans to go stark raving mad as soon as the youngest of our three is firmly entrenched in high school, that's 10 years away. We've got a lot of time to make up for. We've been married 16 years, and have only drank our faces off together one time! But one commenter was right... the fantastic sex does come back. :-)
And I know you still look hot in your exorbitant jeans - you do have a flickr account, remember?
There is just something about loving a child fresh from your womb that changes you so completely in a way someone who has never cared for a child has (I'm including adoptive mama's, btw... they KNOW, in some ways even better than the rest of us).
Why is it wrong to say so?
i'm looking forward to being a mid-life mama with kids in college who unsuccessfully tries to re-create my glory days when i go visit them on parents weekend. seriously. i could kegstand and funnel with the best of them- right now i'm just "voluntarily giving my liver a respite" during these pregnant/nursing/need-to-be-coherant years. but in 2027? i'll get a little nip-tuck, buy my outfits in the junior department, and get my hair highlighted. then, once i'm a cougar, and after my mid-afternoon nap, i'll be ready to roar again!! i can't wait. (said with tongue firmly in cheek).
Anyone who can't understand that posts, like most thoughts, are full of a broader spectrum of belief needs to get out more. I get really really mad at people who aren't mentally ill sometimes, people who "seem" to have their shite together. But I also know they likely don't. I'm just seeing the good stuff.
And I hold the same sort of distaste for olives, tofu and fat ladies in lycra.
The all-nighters in Playa del Carmen. The wine tastings with friends till my lips and nose were delightfully numb and conversations jarbled but fun.
And the $300 jeans. I don't even WEAR jeans now cuz I don't have the time to try them on to fit my new post-2-babies body, even if I am at my playing weight, the body is forever changed. And I guess I'm damn proud of that. But oh...the bikini...gone are you forever.
Thanks for the laugh, Kate. I look forward to getting to know you since being introduced to you just recently.
I totally remember the you, you are talking about. She was fun, cool and up for anything. She's still there, just on hold for about 18 year...well, maybe a bit longer. I think we're more alike now, than ever before and wish we lived next door to each other. I could use your advice on what to do with my toddler, it's the boy model. I knew what to do with the girl one, but this one stumps me. He throws, he hits, he runs way too fast downhill on concrete, he's remorseless, he's aggressive in everything he does, he rarely takes us seriously when we scold him, he's not into redirection, he hugs me so hard my neck hurts, he gave me a black eye when he threw dad's cell phone, he loves and he laughs harder than anyone or anything I've ever known. I've heard this is normal, but I'm not convinced. I think you might know a bit about this. Your post on the Fine Art of Midget Wrestling comes to mind. What I'm trying to say is thank you for being so bloody candid. About everything. Since we can't live next door and in fact, live on opposite coasts, this is the closest thing to being in person.
We were in Vancouver a while ago and planned on going out for dinner with our couple friend (newly engaged). We asked them to suggest a place to eat and laid down some criteria - fast service, no candles, no linen napkins, kid friendly. Welllllll, they took us to a newly opened, long line up, beautiful Japanese Hotplate restaurant. We took one look at the slate floor, mini skirted hostess and sizzling hotplates on the table and headed for the exit. Yah, I wish we could still eat at a place like this. They didn't get it. They won't until their first born's hair catches fire at Boston pizza.
By the way, I love eggplant on the bbq. Oh, and in thai curry too!
You know what I'd love Kate? A ten penny at that pub in Yaletown, with you and Justin as company.
ps. eggplant is awful, especially when mushed up into that babaganoush nonsense.