Last week I was all fired up to write a post on all my fall and winter wants/needs. Stuff I was all excited to buy, like two-tone Hunter boots, and stuff for the perfect big girl room for Dell Harper, and a new diaper bag, blah, blah, blah. Then at church Sunday before last the sermon was all about the evils of materialism. And I deleted my online shopping bags, feeling mighty guilty about all my imaginary shopping.
It is so easy to get caught up in our disposable, new-new-new, buy-buy-buy culture. I see my friends and acquaintances, (or random people on blogs or instagram) with beautiful new clothes, or a perfectly redecorated house, and I want that too. I mean, who wouldn't want to wear a different new outfit every day? Who wouldn't want new dishes or chairs or stationery?
But truth be told, I also get a bit disgusted with myself. I don't need to spend money on things. Dell Harper doesn't care if the chair in her room is old or new, or how much it cost. She just cares about whether it is comfy for reading books and snuggling with her mama (it is, although becoming a bit of a tight squeeze these days). She truly does not give a shit whether her stroller came from craigslist or is brand spanking new with a thousand dollar price tag to prove it. So why should I care?
So, I thought deep about all of the above, and resolved to do better. My innate frugality battles with my love of beautiful things. And pretty clothes (although none are to be had right now in my current situation). I need to let go of my horror of rewearing the same clothes over and over. No one cares except for me.
I felt purposeful and renewed to live and spend sensibly, and ignore the cheap thrill of a new bauble or cheaply made article of clothing from J. Crew or Anthroplogie. Frugal Frannie, that's me.
Then, my mom came over to help with bath the other night. Miss Priss had me at wit's end with her one of twice yearly meltdowns. I needed reinforcement and a smiling face, so mama to the rescue. While doing Dell Harper's bath, I bent over the tub, and Mama exclaimed, "Samma! I can see your crack!". I was MORTIFIED, (not because of my mom, but because I had been wearing these maternity leggings for the past three days (between washings)). They had not only a run in the seat of the pants, but had grown thin with my repeated washings and wearings the past month. You could see straight through them! I had worn them to exercise class, with a tunic for a party, with a t-shirt to the grocery store- all over town! And, with an extremely active toddler, I bend over a lot.
So, I decided that materialism aside, it was time for some new leggings. Even the good Lord understands that no one needs to see my crack. That just ain't right.