Last weekend our two oldest kids had the flu. I spent my days and nights alternating between changing and soothing red, angry, overworked bums and cleaning up pools of weakly vomited applesauce. Pair that with Raegan's demanding cluster feeding and liberal doses of spit up all over various outfits/furniture, and you have the makings for the least glamorous few days possible. Late Sunday afternoon a friend's mom stopped at our house to sell me some stag tickets. I answered the door holding a crimson faced, screaming newborn (actually, she was at that uber pissed off point where she was screeching- but no sounds detectable to human ears were being omitted. All the dogs on our road were howling in our direction though.) Clinging to my right leg was a green tinged Dryden wearing mismatched pjs and one alligator slipper. Trailing behind him was a pj clad Noelle who smelled like...poop? WTF? I changed her diaper 90 seconds before the doorbell rang. I could see Vicky's mom taking in this little vignette so I lamely explained, "the kids are sick." I thought that I was explaining why all three were still in their jammies and acting so miserably. Instead, she exclaimed- dripping with sympathy and understanding, "oh you poor thing! It must be awful caring for them when you're so sick too; you look terrible Hun." Hmm...actually, I'm not sick. After she left, I shuffled into the bathroom (ok, seriously Dryden, get the hell off my leg please, I have a cramp in my calf now) to look in the mirror. My limp, lifeless hair was piled on top of my head in a messy quasi-ponytail. It was mousey brown and shedding at an alarming rate (thank you post pregnancy hormones, on top of being flabby and tired, I'm also balding. Just. Frigging. Awesome.) My face was void of all makeup (makeup? I can't even remember if I had time to brush my teeth) so my natural paleness offset the charcoal semi-circles under my eyes. I was wearing a mint green maternity top (I swear to all things holy that it was the only shirt in the entire house that wasn't barfed on), paint splattered yoga pants and pink Crocs (why do I keep wearing these?!) I had to concede, I did indeed look sick... worse, I looked- let's not sugar coat anything here people- I looked fucking insane. Like a flu suffering escaped mental patient who dressed herself with discarded rags from some roadside donation box.
Now that our house is healthy, and disinfected, again, I made this week national "Make Mommy Look Less Shitty Week." What does MMLLS week consist of? I got my hair cut and colored (I have had the same hair style since national MMLLS week after Noelle was born four years ago!), got my eyebrows done, had a facial, went crazy with exfoliating and dry brushing, gave myself a mani/pedi, experimented with some at-home teeth whitening, waxed my legs (holysweetjesusthathurts), packed my maternity clothes away, bought new accessories, and delegated some baby feeding turns to my husband to get a few extra hours of sleep. I made the effort to do my hair and makeup every morning, even though the only person to appreciate my primping is Noelley's bus driver and our dog. I feel better. I've also given myself until this weekend to throw those goddamn Crocs out. I feel better. I look better...or at least slightly less insane.
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