Confession: I am a pajama mama

When you’re out at the grocery store and you see a woman wandering around in the middle of the afternoon in pajama pants and a pony tail, it’s probably me.  If I could find them, I’d probably wear my slippers too.  Believe it or not, I used to be edgy.  My clothes used to make a statement.  They still do, actually; they just say it much differently.  And I hate to admit it, but I actually feel good about that.  I never gave it much thought until a friend of mine said that one of her pet peeves is when people wear pajama pants out in public.  I almost held my tongue, embarrassed to confess I was one of “those” people.  But then I squared my shoulders and outed myself.  I confessed that sometimes when I change out of my pajamas, I just change into new ones.  That I have different pajama pants for different situations (like, I almost never wear my fleece pants in the afternoon, and my pink candy cane ones are perfect for a late night video run.)  That I like feeling lazy.

When I walk out my door in my cupid pajama pants and a bandana over my head, I am telling the world that I don’t care what they think, that comfort trumps cool, and that a mom’s work is never done.  Some days that isn’t true.  Sometimes I do my hair and makeup, put on daytime clothes and tell the world that I can still do it, that cool can trump comfort if I want it to, and that I’m more than just a tired mom.  Those days feel good.  I like being that version of me.  But I will no longer be embarrassed of the days I’d rather be a pajama mama.  After all, I only have so much time before my kids won’t let me get away with it anymore.