I hear a lot about moms who really have their shit together (which reminds me; a lot of descriptions of my blog warn about foul language – what the fuck is that all about?). I’m not one of them. This morning my babysitter called fifteen minutes after she was supposed to be here to tell me she couldn’t come. Some bullshit about a car accident the night before…luckily no one was hurt…car totaled…blah blah blah…all I heard was NOT COMING OVER. Sometimes that’s all it takes to put me into a total tail spin. I’m walking on a tightrope here and, really, the tiniest unforseeable things can upset me these days.
I know that it’s like this for a lot of us. And I also know that some people don’t even have a regular babysitter so those people may be reading this thinking “yeah, Stef, I hear the tiniest violin playing the saddest song for you.” But, I have a book due in a couple of months, I edit a website, I have a 2-year-old who for some weird reason seems to want actual attention from me. It seems that sitting on the couch in a vegetative state watching Wonderpets isn’t enough entertainment. No, she wants me on the couch with her enjoying every moment. Or worse, she wants to actually go places and do things. So I feel mama guilt. And I try to step it up. But I’m really tired.
Worse, I never thought I’d be one of those moms who can barely be bothered to get dressed half the time. I truly have little use for make-up because I only bother to put it on on the rare occasion I leave the house at night without a child. Truth be told, I definitely don’t shower as much as the National Health Department would deem fit, many days don’t brush my teeth until noon, flossing is now a luxury not a given and I haven’t even put on a pair of jeans in I don’t know how long. I’ve become that women. The pale faced, ponytailed, sweats wearin’, old t-shirt sporting MOM. I used to be kind of cute. I think I still am when I catch a glimps of myself all done up but, I just don’t have the energy.
I have fleeting thoughts every morning of actually making an effort and then something happens. A diaper needs immediate changing, the trash needs to go out, the phone starts ringing and before you know it, it’s 3 o’ clock and I still look like poop. I really thought it would be different. I envisioned myself unchanged, just with a child in tow. But, that was unrealistic as it turns out.
Sometimes I go to the park and see women in full make-up, their skinny jeans and their hair blown-dry and possibly curled a bit. I just don’t know how they make that happen. Is it magic? Do they have a live-in stylist?
Does anyone else relate or am I just lazy?