Not Your Daughter's Jeans

I may have stepped over to the dark side. After 3 years of mother overload sweatpants and t-shirts, I am trying to let my personal style reflect my burgeoning sense of joy. I obtained a copy of "How Not to Look Old" from the library to reflect upon which of my old ways are passe. Turns out, most of the rules that I have been practicing since childhood are no more. Fewer rules is always good news.

Linen pants before Memorial Day? What a concept. I spent the morning looking for cute shoes with arch support that would allow me to wear linen pants next week, despite the fact that today we reached a balmy 37 degrees in Minneapolis. To live in Minnesota is to demonstrate our faith that spring does follow winter, that we are blessed with sunshine even when we can't see it behind a cold, gray sky. The fact that I shave my legs on days like today is a radical act of faith.

I found the shoes, but I had to free my mind that these jazzed up bo-bo sneakers were not just for the geriatric set. Mine have a lovely grapevine design with sequins and cross strap with velcro. The good news is that my wide leg linen pants will mostly cover them. Linen may be okay any time of year, but I simply cannot expose my toes until it is at least 65 degrees or until we have had two hard rains to clear the gravel and salt reside from the streets. Without these shoes, I will have to wait until to July to wear my linen pants.

However, the linen pants are two miles too long because I had to accomodate my butt. Buoyed by my shoe find, the kiddo and I skipped over to the tailor who turned out to be a kind, Russian man who has been in the business for 28 years. I asked him if he remembered the JCPenney store that used to be at the other end of the mall. Oh yes, of course. I told him my father managed that store. I figured he couldn't possibly remember my dad from so long ago. It had been 24 years since he died. The man said, "I'm not sure [if I remember him], but we did all of the alterations for JCPenney, thousands of dollars for us. Actually, your dad told all of the other store owners to use us also. I got a lot of business from your dad." After twenty four years, I rarely meet anyone who even knew my dad. Close friends and relatives who do speak of him usually do so with a serious tone through a tight jaw, I assume, because he died by suicide at the impossibly young age of 40. Though the tailor didn't remember him personally, he did remember my father's loyal and generous way of being which helped him get his new business started. He remembered my dad, not his personality, but how he lived, and without the heavy exhale.

This was an unplanned gift that left me feeling quite tender. Meditation has caused a freakish increase in these types of moments.

Things were going so well that I decided to try on jeans. Or, I couldn't tolerate the tenderness of the moment so I decided to try on jeans. This is when things began to turn delusional. How many times have I said to self, "This time it will be different. This time you are going to find the jeans. These will actually look good from the front and the back and cost less than $50." The fact that I brought my 4 year old to a clothing store where everything costs $8.88 to find the illusive jeans was the single most insane thing I have done in weeks. I put my faith in Sarah Jessica Parker. I lost perspective. The first couple of pairs fit, though not from the back. Then the thought: how long can my kid stay with this process before she freaks. I check my watch. I am breathing quite shallowly, and the sweat has begun to form on my upper lip. 11:30 a.m. I have 10 minutes, 15 tops. To walk away would have been the path to serenity, I chose to press on. I tried on 3 more pairs of jeans, a dress and two shirts in 5 minutes. I was possessed. I will force this solution. I deserve victory. I will find those jeans and then I will have the peace that passes all understanding or at least not this vulnerable sadness that I cannot control.

I cried in the car on the way home, and then spent an hour on-line looking for the perfect jeans. I may have found them, Not Your Daughter's Jeans. That delusion of victory is for another day.

I kept my date with self to meditate and I only looked distractedly at my clock 10 times. I gave myself a hug, said good job and went to the gym. While on the cross-trainer, I felt heavy with grief. I asked the Holy Spirit to lift me out of the darkness. I am on my way.