You have zero time to work on yourself physically. I can't remember the last time I took a shower longer than 5 minutes and my hair has been blown dry less than 10 times since my babes were born. Makeup consists of moisturizer thrown on after the quickie rinse off and if it's a special occasion, I'll break out the mascara. Clothes become functional because you have to be comfortable to carry or chase little ones around, and you have to not mind getting slobber or who knows what on your threads. T-shirt and jeans, woohoo college days are here again.
Today, the four of us packed up and went to a batting cage. [that sounds so easy, right? Actually we had to plan to do this after the second nap, after snack time, change clothes and diapers, get shoes on, get the diaper bag packed, and get kids loaded into the car. From baby wake-up to pulling out of the driveway equalled 1 hour, I have forgotten the definition of impromptu] We arrive, to the batting cages, which appear to be housed in an old mechanics garage in an industrial type of neighborhood. I am sure this area has been previously featured on CSI:Miami before. We walk in, my husband pays for his tokens and proceeds into his batting cage to have balls hurled at him faster than I could even see. [He did really well and really impressed me btw]
As soon as we walked into this establishment, I felt SO uncool. Here were all these young macho guys, swinging metal bats at balls going 85 miles an hour. My hair was in a pony tail, no makeup, t-shirt, squash & sweet potato stained jeans (from lunch) and with two babies in tow. My daughter sat in my lap while my son was confined to his stroller. We sat there and played games, sang songs and kept the snacks flowing to ensure no major breakdowns.
The testosterone was bleeding down the walls and there I sit singing about how the wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round, all through the freaking town. Glances were a-plenty. Language was cleaned up for my benefit and these young hunky 20 year old men were making goo-goo faces at my daughter.
I will admit that at this time, I wish I had strutted in there, full make-up & hair, wearing a designer top, tight fitting jeans and stilettos. That is how I always imagined myself as a mom. The hot mom. Instead, I have a few more years to live in reality, but mark my word, there will be NO soccer mom van.
So true :) I remember thinking how embarrassed I was because I was on the floor with my kids in my "low slung jeans" and everyone could see my crack!! Definitely not kid attire.
ReplyDeleteI think when kids get to be school age, moms may have a "little" more time to put makeup on! I'm lucky to get my contacts in and my teeth brushed.
I'll never forget right after my daughter was born (in December in Minneapolis, no less) I actually decided to take a shower and get dressed up a little to go look for a new fridge at the MOA. I had on jeans and a cream colored turtle neck...and the salesman kept staring at my shirt, then he finally asked me if I was not getting any sleep, what with a newborn and all. I glanced down, and right below my boob, my cream colored shirt was smeared with poop. Yep. poop.
Poop shirts, I've had a few but never a creme colored one! eek. I haven't bought new jeans so yes I still have the low-rise and now I see why "mom jeans" can come in handy. All that bending down and floor sitting does give quite the show. Couple that with the fact I still wear my maternity underwear from time to time (so comfy!) and it's any wonder why my husband can't keep his hands off me.
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