Yesterday was a tough day. Campbell seems to be going through his 6-month growth spurt and has gone from waking up once a night to waking up three times. So I was exhausted and frazzled when I took Ella to gymnastics. When we got there, Lily freaked out because she had touched the bottom of her shoes. Lately, every time she touches the bottoms of her crocs, she has to wash her hands; I don't know why. Anyway, I took her to the bathroom and helped her scrub. As I was drying my hands, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was horrified.
I'm not a particularly vain person; I don't wear make-up, and I don't worry about my hair much. But I do have some pride, and it was wounded yesterday. I looked as rotten as I felt. I looked like the frazzled, overwhelmed, exhausted mother of three that I am. My hair was flat, and I had big dark circles under my eyes. There was spit-up on my shirt, and I had a baby sling, minus the baby, slung over my shoulder. I was a wreck.
When I took Lily back upstairs to the gym and saw Heidi, I felt even worse. She's also an exhausted, overwhelmed, frazzled mother of three, but she always looks so cute and put together - earrings, necklaces, hip outfits. But then I noticed that she had pulled her hair back using a rubber band from the newspaper, and I felt a little bit better.
I now have a haircut scheduled for tomorrow, and I've bought some new clothes that aren't "transition" outfits. I may not go as far as putting on make-up, but I will try to pull myself together a bit.