Too many days I brush my teeth for the morning at 4 pm. And then at bedtime I’m like, “I’m so tired. I pretty much JUST brushed my teeth. They’re probably still clean. And I’ll wake up before the kids and take a shower. For real this time. I just can’t right now.” Ask me how many times I’ve EVER woken up before my children. Never. Not once. How is it possible that I can convince myself that I will ON THE REG?
Now I’ve never been a “shower everyday” kinda gal. I know some of you are all, “How can you sleep in your sheets. Don’t you feel dirty?” It’s a skill I’ve honed since I was a wee child, and it has served me well in motherhood. I have mastered the greasy ponytail + sweatband, the greasy ponytail + hat, the greasy ponytail + dry shampoo and am not afraid to go out in public and pretend I look cute.
It has become clear that my hygiene is not the only thing running in the opposite direction of my children. While ultimately the most rewarding job ever known to man, motherhood wears a mother out. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Hygienically. Thus, I have compiled the following list, entitled:
- MY TEETH. My first thought when I wake up? Feed the children before they kill each other, feed the baby, get everyone dressed, hurry, hurry, hurry, GET IN THE CAR RIGHT NOW FOR THE LOVE. My first thought is not: Brush your teeth. My first thought at bedtime? I have no thoughts. I am asleep.
- MY HAIR. First of all, I probably won’t have any left. Post-natal hair loss is not a joke. It’s like my baby is literally sucking all the hair off my scalp every time he nurses. Secondly, WHEN do I ever get a haircut? My split ends are up to my ears. And let’s not even talk about the gray hairs that just magically appeared after my first child at the age of 26.
- MY FACE. On the nights I actually DO wash my face, I use a wet wipe.
- MY PRIDE. My post-child motto? I don’t even care. My child is laying on the floor of the Wal-Mart throwing a colossal tantrum? I don’t even care. Had a Janet Jackson moment while nursing in public? I don’t even care. An elderly lady from church drops by the house and it’s in total shambles? I don’t even care. My kids want to wear their pajamas to the park? I don’t even care. Accidentally pregnant for the THIRD. FREAKING. TIME? I cared for a a second but then I didn’t even care.
- MY CLOTHES. I can’t wear an outfit for 5 seconds before something is spit up on it or spilled on it or wiped on it. Can my Target clothes stand up to this kind of laundering? The answer is no.
- MY HUSBAND. Totally kidding. But he does look pretty exhausted.
- MY MEMORY. The other day a lady asked me my five-month-old’s birthday. No idea. She looked at me like I was the worst. I went home and checked on Facebook. It was May 19. I think.
- MY CAR. Seriously. I’m just going to have to burn this one after they are out of their car seats. That backseat is hazardous. Whenever I clean it I think, “I should probably be wearing one of those horrifying beekeeper outfits they wore to get E.T.”
- This is the one that I should say something like “MY HEART” or something equally cheesy. But because that’s so predictable, I’ll instead go with… MY SANITY. Because refer to #’s 1-8.
- Okay fine… MY HEART. Does a love like this exist anywhere other than motherhood? How do they make it all worth it? They have completely stolen my heart and I can’t remember life without them. But that might have something to do with the fact that I can’t remember anything anyway…