Once upon a time, I bought a pair of jeans in Prague and they were gorgeous.
It was the year before I became a mother for the first time. I bought them in a store that was just a stone's throw from the Charles Bridge and they fit in ways that made us feel like newlyweds on honeymoon all over again. But better; five years into marriage and so much better than when we were still fumbling our way forward that first year.
Those jeans could tell stories of late nights in expat restaurants ordering onion rings in a country where the phrase is foreign. Of an afternoon watching Cats, an evening at the opera when I ditched them for dress-up, a long walk along the sky line. Those jeans.
Those jeans could tell stories on me.
Those jeans have been on a journey with me and have seen the rise and fall of hips and belly as I carried three babies.
And more and more, they tell the story of what it means to say goodbye to a certain size and version of myself. Not because there's a perfect size. Or because I don't still enjoy travel and evenings out. There's just an irreversible change in the set of the hips, the heart, the fit post-babies, and that's OK.
Most mornings now, there are kids clamoring for breakfast and my eyes are blurry without contacts as I dig into my closet for comfort and bring out a pair of dark blue denim that is a friendly fit. My daughter walks over and rubs a booger against one leg. A boy wants cake for breakfast. And I'm more likely wearing my converse sneakers than my heels.
But my waist can tell stories now bigger and grander than the view from the Charles Bridge in Prague.
I am a life-maker, grower of tiny humans, raiser of sons and daughter.
I fit into my self better than I ever fit into my Prague jeans.
I fit into this house and this family and this story we're living of tired parents who glory in the quiet beauty of waking up beside boys who have pretzeled themselves in between us under cover of dreams.
My waist made this moment possible.
Unreal. Sacred. Delicious.
This moment that fits me like a glove.
This post first appeared on LisaJoBaker.com
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