An Evolution

While I was sick and under the weather this weekend, I caught up on my gossip
magazines and all the enlightenment that goes along with.  I read an interview with
Katy Perry, the lovely pop star whom Isabelle thinks is a real life Barbie, where she
credits the "success" of her marriage to the fact that she does not even OWN yoga pants.
Her relationship is the picture of emotional health due to the fact that she is always
perfectly sexy for her man and NEVER desecrates her body with such deal breaking pieces
as jersey knit pants and t-shirts.

I took one long, hard look at myself in the mirror, ELEVEN years into my married life,
and let out a huge laugh!  According to Katy Perry, Shawn and I must be doomed!

Here's a look into the evolution of our marriage, as told through my pajamas:

1.  The early years

In the beginning, it was all about lace nighties and silky underthings.  These were the days
of waking up first and hurrying to brush my teeth before Shawn realized that my
breathe smelled less than ideal in the morning.  This was back when Shawn didn't know
that I, like other humans, pooped, got bikini waxes, and could eat a dozen doughnuts in
one sitting.  I was super wife: perfect and totally put together at all times!  This was the
time of getting to know each other, living together day in and day out and figuring out
who we really were, both as a couple and as individuals.

2.  Getting to know you, the REAL you

I eventually dropped the "perfect woman" facade because, well, it was ridiculous.
This man loved me for who I was, not because I was some perfectly hairless,
body odorless, gastrointestinally challenged Barbie.  I started wearing pajama sets:
pants with matching tops, cute tanks and silky shorts.  They were cute and sexy yet
much more comfortable and practical.  Because who really wants to watch Monday
night football in a negligee?  And, amazingly enough, Shawn still loved me!  He still told me
on a regular basis how beautiful I was, regardless of the fact that my butt cheeks were
no longer hanging out the back of my jammies!  This was the time of becoming
more comfortable with myself, less insecurities and more self-love.  Believing in myself
and learning what was really important in life and love.

3.  Diapers and breast pads and vomit: Oh my!

 And here we are today, eleven years in: 4 pets, 3 college degrees, 2 kids, and 1 house
later.  My pajamas currently consist of the softest, easiest to pull up and down pants I can
find (for those nights when you have to use the bathroom while simultaneously holding
a baby) and Shawn's ratty old t-shirts (because they are so big, they are easy to just pull
up for a baby who is still breast feeding every 3-4 hours throughout the night).  It's all
about function and comfort and wearing things that can endure leaky boobs and baby
spit-up.  This is real life, people.  This is the time of growing from a girl to a woman,
knowing exactly who I am and being completely comfortable in my own skin,
celebrating every part of ourselves, even the not so glamorous sides. 

And so, as I looked at myself in the mirror in my cut-off Tool shirt from the 1998 tour,
I kind of wanted to call Katy Perry and assure her that the success of her marriage
has NOTHING to do with her pajamas or whether or not she wears yoga pants.
Because, inevitably, your husband is going to eventually see you at your worst.  He's the
one who's going to hold your hair back when you get food poisoning from your
favorite Chinese restaurant, he's the one who's going to help you hold your legs up
spread eagle as you birth his baby, he'll be right by your side when your toddler
projectile vomits into your bed in the middle of the night, he'll run to the store for you
to purchase giant maxi-pads.  If he's a good husband, that is.
And you'll do all the same for him.  

After 11 years together, many trials and tribulations under our belts, growing and
learning and living life alongside one another, the "success" of our marriage can be
attributed to one thing: hard work.  Every single day, in sickness and in health, bed head
and bad breathe: it's all about showing up and giving 100%.  Our marriage survives
not because of what we look like on the outside, but because we have a deep rooted
mutual respect, trust, and acceptance of one another.  I may not look my sexiest right
now, but my husband loves me all the same.  He tells me so often: how beautiful I am
when I'm nursing our baby in the early morning light, how gorgeous I look making his
favorite french toast with his two daughters playing in my feet, how happy it makes him
that I know just as much about football as he does, how pretty my voice is when I sing
along to his guitar.  These are the things about me he sees: not what I wear to bed.  These
are the qualities that bind us together and make our love real.  And as I look back on
the evolution of my pajamas, I see a relationship that has grown in strength and truth, a
life that has been built on real experience.  This is real life: working 40 hours a week,
taking care of kids, cooking and cleaning, tending a garden, walking dogs, Girl Scouts
and dance class.  And in between all of that living, we are happy to steal a few
moments together whenever we can.  At the end of the day, when we rest in each
other's arms, we are well aware of the fact that things aren't exactly how they used to
be.  We're both a little chubbier, a tad bit frumpier, a few more lines forming around the
eyes.  But we are in love, we are shooting for forever, and these things come with the
package.  We accept each other, every ounce of it.
These days, it's come as you are, old band shirts accepted.