So, I was shopping for a Christmas gift for my mother today. I know- I’m one of those repulsive early shoppers. (I only have 3 more gifts to buy, but I certainly don’t want to be accused of bragging.) Anyway, I was in a department store in our mall looking for a specific clothing item for her and, while weaving in and out of the different ladies’ sections, I was reminded that a woman can very well chart her progression through life by the department in which she’s currently shopping. 

In department stores, a woman can wander from one section of ladies’ wear into another without any warnings or alarms sounding. The boundaries between them is not clearly marked, but it doesn’t take one long to realize that one has entered the wrong section. 

I didn’t venture into the “Juniors” section today. They do, at least, keep that one at a safe distance from the others so to not embarrass anyone. A woman begins her journey in the junior section. Life is good over there, but their mediums don’t equate to mediums in the other sections. A good rule of thumb- it’s best to stay away from this section if you’re no longer using 3-subject notebooks and mechanical pencils. Metabolisms are young and are usually running at their top speed there. If you’re quiet, you can almost hear their hum. Short tops are in play as it doesn’t yet matter if the tops and bottoms meet in the middle as  it will a few departments later. Form fitting sweaters are fine when perky bosoms still sit where nature intended and shorter skirts showcase the young legs not yet marbled with stretch marks and varicose veins. A woman is enjoying life at its finest when she’s here and likely at the very top of her endocrine game. 

From there, we head to legit women’s clothing. This is where the odd numbers turn even. The only odd numbered sizes she’ll be be wearing from here on will be on her her feet. From this point, the dividing lines of the ladies’ department become less defined and it is up to each woman to decide for herself when she has crossed over into territory for which she is not yet ready. Like every other step in life, we all travel through the world of women’s fashions at a pace that suits us best.

This women’s section usually has a corner that’s called “Contemporary” or “Modern Woman” or something like that. This area is for the more recent graduates of the junior department. Still so young and plenty stylish, there are just a few tweaks to be made here to make her appear more grown up and employable, which is incredibly important to her mother over in “Misses“ who knows an employed “Contemporary Woman” means more dresses for herself. This area will still house shorter skirts, ripped jeans, and clothing that must be completely removed in order to use the restroom- a feature that will not prove advantageous in the departments to come- those catering to the post-compromised bladder crowd. Dresses and tops with no backs are also here, which fascinates us, “Misses” as we try to solve the brassiere mystery. With youth on her side, she still has many years to pull off the latest fashions in this more sophisticated way as her parts are all still located where they should be. This is the calm before the brewing ravages of womanhood make landfall. 

Then, there’s “Misses”. This is where a woman can cross some boundaries if she’s not careful as it’s kind of divided into 3 unspoken parts. There’s the misses section as in me. The dresses are a respectable length but not too Caroline Ingalls. This area is still hanging in there with buttons and zippers and real waist bands, but elastic can be spotted just across the way and some are tempted and drawn away by its charms. While this section caters to those who are still trying to go with style over comfort, problems begin to arise here that must be addressed. For example, it is imperative that the emerging mid-section be considered in every textile decision to avoid the canned biscuits dilemma. And waistbands must be high enough to assist in holding it all in- not unlike the Hoover Dam. This is a turbulent time where a woman may find herself plucking more hair from her chins, wondering where her eyebrows went, or suddenly realizing during church that she forgot to shave one of her legs, so feeling pretty during these troubling changes is important for her emotional well being. However distressing, when one finds oneself in this section of life, it’s best not to go backwards to try and recapture the feeling of youth- let’s say- by trying some of those ripped jeans over in “Contemporary”. At this age, people will be prone to assume she has fallen on hard times or has been in some sort of accident involving asphalt and a lot of skidding. And, at this point, if she can’t decide if something is a dress or a top, she should -always, always, always- assume it’s a top. Being young at heart doesn’t always translate well in the language of clothing. She must start to think of others. 

From there, we go to the more mature “Misses“. This is where I was looking for my mother. The surrender to elastic is anywhere from underway to complete. Comfort becomes more of a priority. And coverage of problem areas begins to be considered when selecting clothing here as in the avoidance of short sleeves because of arm flaccidity or high neck preferences to cover the dreaded turkey wattle. Foundation garments become more vital here in order to keep things in the general vicinity of where God placed them initially. They’re a little more liberal with the fabric over there and the measurements allow for more breathing room. Even though still wanting to look pretty and feminine, this section is so over suffering for beauty. She raised her kids without iPads or video games, drove a woodgrain station wagon with no air conditioning, and gave herself home perms. She feels she’s earned her elasticized comfort and will choose it over being anyone’s eye candy, any day of the week. She who shops here deserves some stretchability and it looks good on her. 

The last stop is for the most mature woman among us. I accidentally crept across this line today while shopping and had to back myself out of there. I thought-Mama’s not ready for that. I glanced around and this section just has a different look about it. It’s your grandmother’s section. At this point, someone is most likely doing the shopping for her or driving her there. You couldn’t find a zipper in there if your life depended on it. Elastic is the word of the day and a lot of embroidery and jewel embellishments are sure to bring her granddaughters around at ugly Christmas sweater party time. Coming full circle from the kid’s section, easy on and off is once again a must. She is the most free of all the women who finds her clothes here. She’s lived through enough to make her comfortable in her own skin and her own clothes. She has reached the peak of true beauty. 

No matter where we find ourselves in the department store, it’s best to stay in that section for the appointed time. Not to hurry things up, but not to drag our feet when it’s time to move along. A pretty good rule of thumb for almost every part of a woman’s life. 

Night y’all, 

Davis and I went to visit Blair and John Samuel this past weekend. It was initially going to be a beach weekend as this is the best beach month, in my opinion, but Hurricane Delta made the conditions not so ideal for that. They've just bought a house, so we went on ahead with our trip and used the beach time to help them get packed and pitched in on some projects. I enjoyed my very first visit to Buc-ee's, did some Christmas shopping (not at Buc-ee's- although I certainly could have), and then we endured four tragic quarters of Mississippi State football together. Remember that time I wrote about our euphoric win over LSU and our optimistic football future? That was a good time. 

We got back home to our quiet house where I was reminded again that I'm in this awkward stage of motherhood. It's not all bad. I'm no longer having to pry stiff, little legs through those stroller leg holes. On any given day now, neither of my children pee or spit up on me. Davis and I don't have anyone to hit fly balls to in the yard anymore except each other and, well, that would look pretty stupid. Last week, I found myself in a group chat with the mothers of Ruby's closest dog friends as we tried to coordinate their Halloween costumes. I thought to myself how I used to do that for our actual human children, but I have to work with what I have, these days. When I cook dinner, I don't have to worry that Blair doesn't like pork, bone-in meats, or peas or that Carson hates rice, casseroles, and pasta. That doesn't affect my meal planning now. I'm no longer sitting up to make sure Blair makes it in from her dates. And homecoming at the nearby high school came and went, last week, without so much as one square of toilet paper being deposited in our yard.        

No, I feel like I'm in the customer support stage of motherhood. I'm here should anyone have a question or need advice. My line is open 24 hours if I can provide assistance or walk anyone through the troubleshooting process. I am here to provide the complimentary services agreed upon in the eternally- binding parental contract such as the above mentioned moving assistance, dog-sitting services, or serving as an emergency contact number. Otherwise, I'm done with all the heavy lifting of young motherhood. 

I'm at a place where I'm slowing down in my work life, too. Just 1 1/2 more years of college to fund and we can both slow down. The gift shops have been bought out and I'm working solely for Davis from home....in my stretchy pants......in front of the TV, which is a really a good gig. The best part is that he's not even here to make sure I'm working or what time I start. I really have more time on my hands than I'm used to and I never found myself in this situation when my kids were in strollers or catching fly balls in the yard or out flinging toilet paper into trees. I'm at that weird time where my kids don't need me as much, but I'm not yet a grandmother with little people digging around in my purse for gum either.     

I'm also at a funky, awkward stage of womanhood. I remember my mother around my age and her body became inhabited by a set of triplets. When we came home, we never knew if we were going to get the sweet and normal mother, the evil mother with red, glowing eyes that shot out darts of fire, or the sobbing mother who'd melt into a tear puddle on the floor if you looked at her wrong. I think they called it "The Change" back then. It was a change, all right, and it was a-changin' at the drop of a hat. I'm not quite there yet, but I'm no longer in possession of my once raging metabolism- more of a sputtering one now, which requires that a larger part of my day be spent on the treadmill to keep up. And I feel like I have the worst case of brain fog that just won't lift. You know they say women of a "certain age" can suffer from mental clarity problems. And distracted. I start to blog and then I see something shiny across the room and it's all over. It's all probably hormonal and a little 2020- because, well, 2020 has to shoulder the blame for everything else that's happening, so why not this?   

So what do I do with more time on my hands and a foggy brain? Every morning, Facebook reminds me of how many people have checked the M&M page to see if I've posted anything new. That thrills my soul and frustrates me to death all at the same time. It's usual for me to write longer posts, but that's where I'm having trouble. I'll have a thought or an idea that I want to share, but not usually enough to fill a page, so I just end up writing nothing at all. My brain and attention span are functioning in paragraphs instead of essays at the current time, so I'm going to switch to more condensed posts for now. Quick, little reads that will, hopefully, come more frequently. Until the fog clears. 

And as for the rest of my free time, I prayed that God would show me how to use it wisely. If there's a need I can meet, a void I can fill, a mission I can accomplish- that's where I want to spend it. Like I said, this awkward stage of motherhood has its perks.   

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1   

Y'all have a good day!