As any stay-at-home mother will tell you, it can be very tempting to stay in your sweat pants all day and never take your hair out of a pony tail. But really, when we don’t make the effort to look good, we’re not only discouraging our spouses, we’re cheating ourselves.
That’s why I am going to share with you some wonderful beauty tricks to get that perfect stay-at-home mom look!
First things first – forget everything you’ve ever heard about Beauty Sleep. Sleep? HA! Who needs it. Not stay-at-home moms! I laugh in the face of sleep. I find that when I get less than three hours of sleep a night, it gives my skin a pale, pasty pallor that no amount of rice powder geisha make-up can replicate. Everyone knows that a healthy, sun-kissed glow is SO out of fashion now that skin cancer is on the rise.
Lack of shut eye also has the added bonus of tuning you in to your intuitive side. When I don’t sleep, I may lose all short term memories, but I gain psychic abilities! Don’t believe me? Take last night for an example:
3:00AM Brecken screams for mommy to come snuggle him. (I am used to this. He has been doing this at 3 am on the dot for a few weeks now. I went in there, did my 10 minutes of snuggle duty and returned to my own bed. No biggie.)
4:00AM I hear the unmistakable sound of a child vomiting in the dark. I go in to the kids’ room to find Karis doing her Linda Blair impersonation. I give her a bath, braid her hair to keep it from getting puke in it again the next time she hurls, change her bedding, and scrub puke chunks out of her comforter. I put her back in bed, start a load of laundry, and make it back to my own bed by 4:45AM.
4:47AM The dog HAS TO GO PEE RIGHT NOW OMG Ican’tholditinforanothersecond!!! So I take the dog down and lead her around the backyard until she does her business. I’m back in bed by 5:04AM.
5:17AM There’s that sound again! A child is vomiting. This time it’s Brecken. He was face down when he started, so his comforter was at least spared the indignity of being soiled with half digested burrito chunks and black olives. It’s a quicker clean up job, and I’m crawling back under my covers by 5:40AM.
6:00AM Karis is horking again. She gets this from her father, no doubt. It’s a much smaller mess because her stomach is pretty much empty. I listen to her explain why she hates throwing up – “Because my whole body squeezes in on itself. I don’t like it. It’s exhausting.” (A direct quote.) I switch out her towels and my head is hitting my pillow at 6:15AM.
6:27AM Brecken has his second go-round. It is also small. I change his shirt, switch out his towels, and am back in bed by 6:37AM imagining myself claiming the gold should vomit clean up ever become an Olympic event.
This is where the psychic abilities come in. I could have sworn this was actually happening, but it turns out I was only psychicly dreaming it, and the actual conversations wouldn’t happen for a few hours.
I dreamed that Jesse was leaving to go to the office, and he said, “Brecken just threw up, and I have to go because I’m late.” I moaned about how I had been up since 3 and blau blau blau, but he left anyway.
Then I dreamed I was yelling at him because he had given Brecken Pepto-Bismol and Brecken had proceeded to immediately regurgitate it.
Cut to 8:00AM. Jesse is leaving, Brecken is spitting up mucus on the stairs, and I am moaning about being up all night.
Jesse leaves, I take the kids downstairs, and as I’m setting them up a little snuggle bed on the couch, Brecken shits diarrhea all over the rug. It wasn’t much, but it had managed to hit his pull-up at just the right angle. I clean that up, and realize I have a bit of a problem. If this were a baseball game, I’d say it was the bottom of the ninth, two men on, with two outs. But it’s not a baseball game, it’s my life. I was down to the last pull-up. All of my cloth diapers were dirty. My washing machine takes an eternity to complete a load, and the plumber was coming in 20 minutes to shut off my water and fix the bathtub issue. Suddenly,
Mariano Rivera Jesse comes back!
He had taken the wrong laptop to work and needed to switch it out. I explained the diaper/diarrhea situation and he looked at the clock. He had a very important meeting with head honchos and celebrities at 10:00. I was going to have to steal third!
I jumped in my car and raced to Target. The last minute of Blondie’s Sunday Girl was blaring on my radio – you know, the part where she’s speaking french in a terrible accent. It was the perfect soundtrack for my mad diaper dash.
I made it home just in time to find Jesse rinsing a rag out in the sink because – you guessed it – he had given Brecken a small dose of Pepto-Bismol and Brecken had fulfilled my psychic vision by vomiting it back up all over the master bedroom carpet.
Okay. Where was I? Baseball? Beauty tips? Aw fuck it. I can’t remember what my point was. I’ll just end this post by giving a shout out to all you haggard mommies out there. Those sweat pants make your butt look comfortable, and that stain on your shirt is sexy as hell. Also, when you pull your hair up into a pony tail like that, it not only hides the miscellaneous chunks of nastiness that got smeared in there during the night, it also highlights your amazing cheek bones. You go girl! Work it!
Update: I just re-read this and realized I screwed up my baseball analogy. In my scenario I was playing both defense and offense. Sigh.