I can’t fly, walk through walls, or dead lift a house; but I do have a super power.
I am Mom. (hear me roooooar)
That means I have an exceptional ability to live selflessly, love abundantly, and work tirelessly. I’ve abandoned the old me, and embraced a new (unshowered) version of myself. My days are overflowing with constantly alternating giggles and tantrums. My sink collects dishes all day long from the hourly snacks demanded by tiny versions of myself.
My bed is unmade and I haven’t showered in 2 days, but my heart is full.
Really, the glow you’re noticing isn’t healthy skin. It’s grease. My hair smells like yesterday’s chicken nuggets and a bit of dry shampoo. I’ve put a fresh layer of deodorant on, but that’s the extent of my personal hygiene.
I don’t have time to shower.
It’s not an excuse, it’s a reality of mom-life. I’m sure I could get up early and sneak into the bathroom, but I’d be risking the sound of flowing water in the pipes waking my kids. We’re already up at 5:30. I could shower after bedtime, but the last one goes down around 8:30 and I just need to sit down for a moment without becoming an instant jungle gym.
Besides, showering with kids in the house is no small feat. Seriously. I have never closed the door to the bathroom while alone with my kids successfully. Suddenly there is a specific Hot Wheels car that we are devastated to have lost three weeks ago. Someone needs to poop. The sky is falling and the world is quickly coming to an end.
Once the curtain has been opened (usually within 1-3 minutes) the questions start in. “Why is your tummy so big? Are those nipples? Where is your penis?! Can I come in? ARE YOU DONE YET?
Suddenly what used to be a blissful escape becomes an agonizing rush, instantly regretted. Once I’m out the towel is ripped from my body and I’m assaulted with poking fingers and nosey kids – still somehow covered in peanut butter and boogers despite my best efforts to scrub it clean. Just like fresh sheets invite a bed wetter; a shower invites spit up, sneezes, or some other bodily fluid.
It’s hard to find the willpower in the midst of the mayhem of our typical routine.
Mornings are filled with appointments, deadlines, errands, and attempting to drain mass amounts of rambunctious energy before nap time comes.
Nap time follows a strict routine of absolute silence (that means you, UPS guy!) breakfast and lunch clean up, and snack prep. By the time that’s all done someone is awake and the chaos continues.
I swear, time slows down in the hours before Daddy comes home. Each tick of the clock seems like an eternity. My afternoons are filled with homework,, dinner prep, laundry, and HANGRY toddlers.
Then comes dinner, a tenacious battle in itself with bath time, story time, and bed time to follow. More often than not my husband makes it home just as dinner is served. If all goes well I shower as soon as dinner and baths are done; but it only goes well 50% of the time.
Yes, there are minutes between throughout the day, but I spend those trying to poop alone (I’ve come to believe that’s like a unicorn – impossible to find and quite possibly made-up) or on the floor as a monster truck ramp or imaginary flying dog.
Those are the minutes I live for. Those are the beautiful reminders of why I chose to become a mom, and why I wouldn’t change it for the world, even though I’m perpetually unkempt.