I was what one might call....a dork as a child. I was never popular and that fact never really seemed to bother me. I liked the freedom of my dork-wear, I could get muddy and dirty, chase lizards and frogs until my hearts content all without angering my parents. Any destruction done to my clothes was shrugged off due to the fact that most were free to my parents. I would get hand-me-downs from my cousin and other friends of my mother who had kids my age. One might thing I would be upset by this fact since style and brand names were very important in obtaining social status then, especially at the private school I attended. But no, I usually pitched a fit when my mum would drag me to a store to get new clothes. I was more interested in their book selection than their clothes. Eventually, my mom got the hint and gave up on me having even a halfway decent wardrobe. She would buy me one or two nice outfits for special events or church and other than that I was free to dress how I pleased. Let me tell you, I was a disaster. I could tell you of the mixed patterns, the neon colors, the insane amount of spandex, but really it would do more damage than good to my point. My style apathy only last until high school, much to the relief of my parents I'm sure. Two things happened simultaneously to change me from a mud cover frog catcher to a make up covered boy catcher.
One, I got my first job and even though it was at a pizza place, I knew I needed to take pride in my appearance. Six months into my first job I quit and went to a fast food place, they were paying more and my supervisor at the pizza place was a complete nutter. The fast food place was great though, I loved my bosses was treated well and fairly by my coworkers, and I did my best to be sure I pulled my own weight. Even though it was a fast food place, they had stricter uniform and appearance standards and I had to work harder at look nice while I was there.
Two, I discovered.....boys! All kinds of boys! I loved them all, had more crushes than I could count and was desperate to gain their attention. Which leads me to my point, I worked harder at personal appearance than I ever had my entire life. I learned that people were more friendly and engaging when I looked nice, and I felt better about myself. I finally got to the point where I wouldn't leave my house unless my make up was on and my hair was tamed.
When the twins were still itty bitty things swaddled comfortably in their cribs I followed the rule of "you sleep when the babies sleep". My days blended into one another as I went from feeding and changing to back to sleep. I honestly attribute the pumping of breast milk, and my insane schedule to my rapid weight loss after the twins were born. I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight by three weeks postpartum and twenty pounds below that when they were three months old. Don't worry mums, I gained it back, so you don't have to hate me. But it was during one of those never ending days that I finally caught a glimpse in the mirror. Now, just to give you an idea of my neurosis regarding my looks, I put make up on and did my hair....for my c-section! I knew I would be photographed a million times that day and I wasn't about to look like hell regardless of how silly it was. Of course, in pretty much every picture I looked VERY drugged and sloppy, thanks a lot Versed. Back to my postpartum period, I finally caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and, it was like looking at a stranger. An exhausted, worn out, sloppy, ugly stranger. My hair was a rats nest of tangles, I had bags under my eyes and bags under those, my face was pale white, with a mini-breakout going on and badly in need of cleansing and exfoliation. My clothes (which I had been wearing for days) were stained with breast milk or formula, wrinkled and hanging off my shoulders with my ridiculously engorged breasts practically falling out. I looked like I had been to hell and back. Literally.
It took a couple months but eventually I found a routine that allowed me to look my best while still keeping up with other duties. I had to get creative though, very creative. I would put my make up on in the car if my husband was driving and the night before (with morning touch ups) when flying solo. The babies were always dressed cute and usually coordinate (I bet they're glad I'm over that phase). Just when I thought I had mastered looking my best with babies, Zack was born. Zack, my hardest newborn period, and that's saying a lot coming from a mom of multiple multiples. My sweet but giant baby boy. Pictures of me holding him look photo shopped, there's no way that he was that big at that age. But he was, he stayed in the 90-100 percentile range for weight and height ever since he was born. To complicate matters I was never permitted to set him down or hand him off. I bought a baby bjorn and I could finally move around without loosing an arm to baby duty but this permanent pregnancy thing was hard. I had to relearn how to do make up, dress nice, and get to places on time! This caused me to have to further cut corners and increase creativity to do it all.
One day, while running late for the doctors, I discovered that morning touch ups don't really work on two day old make up. The more I tried, the worse I looked. Noticing that the person looking back at me looked like a common tart I realized, I needed to start over. With no time for soap and water I remembered my previous successes with wipes and dug them out of my diaper bag. I was actually pretty impressed with how quickly and easily it removed the make up, even the waterproof mascara (though that took more effort). A few wipes later I was back at square one and quickly reapplying a fresh, and much improved, layer of make up. By the time we reached the doctors there was no trace of my make up fiasco, I looked fresh and ready to take on the day.
That's the thing about looking as good as you can, pride is a powerful drug, it feels nice to feel nice. Don't misunderstand, there's no judgement here, honestly we're judged enough. I am very aware that being a mom is hard whether you have one or twenty. Each mom has to learn to do the best she can with what her situation allows. I also understand that appearances aren't that important to some people. No one could relate to that better than me. I'm simply saying, look whatever way makes you feel good about yourself, that pride can take you a long way. And if you ever find yourself in a rush, realizing that you need to freshen up, grab your wipes and get busy mum, they clean more than bottoms!
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