My 2 year old said this to me as I re-entered the room after a long, steamy shower that included a hair wash and leg shave, both of which had not happened for a week. This "spa day" also included make-up, something my family hasn't seen on my face in several months. My husband had bought me a sweet lace sundress to celebrate the end of summer, a perfect ensemble for our family stroll in the park. With a gleam in his eye, Conley says, "You are a princess."
As I had to pick my heart off the floor and wipe the tear from my eye, it came to me. I used to be cute. I used to be an attractive woman. I was princess-ly. I wore dresses, curled my hair, and applied lip gloss. Now, it's a good day if I am wearing deodorant. I go from pajama pants to sweat pants and classify that as "changing my clothes." I am a mom.
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO BE GIRLY ANYMORE.
I think this is the result of several issues.
1. I am surrounded by penises. Don't get me wrong. I am thrilled to be the mother of 2 (well, 3) boys. I think that boys are fun, loud, and silly. I think they are wonderfully simple creatures, not as dramatic and complex as girls. But man, are they filthy. They love dirt, sand, and any other substance that they can get all over themselves. They fart and pee, um, everywhere. Why would I want to look cute cleaning up after them? or have make up on to sweat it out at the park, running after my toddler?
2. I don't use my "free" time for pampering. And yes, this means that I choose to not even bathe at all some days. I don't want to get all fresh and clean to have applesauce thrown into my hair. When my babies are sleeping or my oldest is at pre-school, I don't choose, much to the chagrin of my husband, to make myself pretty. I may choose to fold laundry, wash dishes, or, (you guessed it) check my Facebook. Getting pretty just seems so frivolous.
3. It takes me 45 minutes to blow dry my hair. Nuff said.
4. I am not a fashionista. I have never been good when it comes to fashion. My husband is better at it than I am. He finds amazing outfits for me. Thank God because I would be in yoga pants and a t-shirt permanently if he didn't come home with an occasional find. And I live in NYC. I should be cool by default, but I am so not. I don't know how to put the right dress with the right shoes and bag. I wish I knew how to pair perfect earrings with that perfect outfit, but earrings just mean "toys" for my one year old. Gorgeous dangly earrings that compliment the blouse are history inside of 4 seconds once they are seen by my baby. I just get hives when I look through fashion magazines. It's like a foreign language. I know you are talking to me, I just don't understand you.
5. I have boys. I think that if I had two little girls instead, I would make an effort in playing the part. We would be dressing up in princess attire and applying make-up instead of digging for worms and building forts. When I think of all that is necessary for little girls -the dresses, shoes, tights, hats, bows - I look at my boys' closet and sigh deeply. It is a two-fold sigh - that of relief and loss.
6. Beauty is not only skin deep. This is a bunch of crap. I can be all spiritual and sweet, but if I haven't brushed my hair for a couple of days, I am gross. just gross.
Ok. So there. I have my reasons.
But when Conley said his sweet words to me, I felt like he was proud of me. I know that he loves me. His snuggles and butterfly kisses speak volumes, but there was a look on his face that said, "Wow, mom," and I liked how that made me feel. Is that weird?
Now, my husband compliments me all of the time. I am so blessed in that regard. So why does it take a "compliment" from my son to make me want to actually use soap once in a while?
My husband deserves to have a beauty on his arm. Why did being a princess for a day inspire me to wear blush and bracelets?
I take for granted that my husband sees me as a woman and not a mom. I may be picking out pieces of banana out of my bra, but he still sees me as feminine.(Thank God.) My children deserve a mother who takes pride in her appearance as much as my husband needs to see me as the woman he fell in love with, even if it's just once in a while.
I hereby promise to put as much effort into my appearance as I take time with theirs. They both bathe every night. Wash their hair. Conley is sure to have a matching ensemble for school and Holden will look cute for our walk in Central Park and I will look my best for my family. Even if by days end, I am covered in pasta sauce and ice cream.
Now, where's my tiara?
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