Homely, Party of One

Ok so I used to take such pride in my appearance and even if it was a trip to the grocery store I would fix hair, put on makeup, and clothe myself. In something other than nightclothes. That was, until I became a Mom. Actually....I didn't start on the downward spiral until after Number 2 was born. Number 3 sent me over the edge. With Number 1 I thought I was kinda cute Mom. Next child came along and I was a little more frazzled, but after this last one I'm just downright homely. I go places now looking like I've been cleaning poo all day. Now that I think about it....

Anyway....The thing is, with 3 children, you never know when the opportunity might arise to actually get out of the house. Alone. To go shopping, mail a letter, or anything else that is nothing short of traumatic to haul 3 small children. So when that opportunity comes up, you don't even stop to put on lipstick or brush teeth. Or even get dressed. If you remotely have on anything that won't get you arrested for indecent exposure, have a stick of gum handy and can grab the lipstick on your way out, you take off before whomever has offered to keep your children for you changes their mind.

So today Mimi and Papa came over to play with the kids and when Mimi said to me "why don't you go somewhere," I looked down to make sure I had on pants and grabbed the keys and my wallet and was out the door before she finished the sentence.

When my cell phone rang as I was slowly wandering up and down the grocery aisles (as opposed to speed racing with a screaming baby, or two) I was so excited that my friend Amy was looking for a lunch date. A LUNCH DATE! For once I was able to say YES!!!! I can go...meet you in 15 minutes. Then I realized what I looked like. Someone who had just finished cleaning the toilets. In the middle of the night. I honestly think I had on pajama pants. I held my hand in front of my mouth, breathed real hard, grabbed a pack of gum on the way out and proceeded on to lunch.

I found some lipstick in the car, along with a brush, and when I looked in the mirror I was happy that I at least looked like someone who had scrubbed toilets with makeup on. I rushed into the restaurant, assured the waiter that I in was in fact there to eat lunch and not scrub their toilets, was seated, and ordered a glass of fancy blueberry infused tea. I took a deep breath and savored the moment as I perused the menu, happy that I didn't see my usual lunch featured: peanut butter and jelly sandwich crusts and pretzel pieces left over from what William wouldn't eat 'cause they were "bruke."

Amy arrived and we had a delightful lunch. Then my cell phone started ringing every 5 minutes summoning Dairy Queen for a hungry baby. So I returned from whence I had come.

But at least I returned to clean toilets!