Appearances Aren’t Everything…But Are They Something?!

I used to be reasonably put together.  Granted, I’ve never been someone who takes hours to get ready for things.  I’ve always been a jeans and a t-shirt girl who occasionally dresses up and goes all out.  However, even me “going all out” doesn’t take more than an hour or so.

Enter children.

Now, I wake up at 5am (because that’s when the 5 yo gets up-no matter what time he went to bed) and I run around all morning and can still barely get out the door for anything by 9am.  What takes so long?! It’s certainly not me. If hubby’s driving, you can bet my makeup is being applied in the car. Did I even have a shower? And this mop on my head-am I really going to try to pass this mess off as a style?!  I still wish I could put my hair in pony tail without looking like a founding father!

By the end of it all, I give myself a once over in the tiny mirror on the window shade in the car and say, well-this is what I look like today.  I usually think it’s decent and feel pretty good about myself for getting out of the house and as hubby likes to say, looking “reasonable”. I used to laugh at him for saying that.  Not good. But not bad. Just reasonable. Like a he tried…a little. But now, I totally get it!

And then I see that lady.  You know the one. 5 kids all perfectly behaved, her hair looking like she just came from the salon, some trendy workout getup giving the illusion that she just left the gym but never let a drop of sweat break free from her tanned skin.  Her makeup is perfect. Lipstick reapplied. Something I NEVER do.

And then I realize I don’t actually look reasonable.  I look like some kind of frazzled slob bursting in the door to wherever I’m going with bags hanging off every limb, ramming the baby carrier into the door frame trying to get everything to squeeze in, while shushing my kids and trying to get them to stay right by me, all the while hoping all my clothes are on and on right, skirt not tucked into my underwear, etc.

In the end, I can look on at the perfectly put together mom and realize I don’t envy her.  She’s probably got her own set of challenges hidden somewhere. Mine just happen to be on the outside.

…at least that’s what I’m telling myself and it makes me feel better for the moment.

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