I "Look Like a Mom"

So I was walking into work the other day, quite proud of the fact that I had actually managed to make it out of the house without J's bodily fluids on my clothing, and I even managed to curl my hair and put on a little bit of makeup when I passed a friend of mine who looks at me, smiles, and exclaims to my BFF walking with her, "I swear, Tammy just looks like a mom now!"

WTF IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!? I spent a couple of days pondering her comment, wondering what exactly she meant by that. Do I look loving and maternal? Do I have a "happy mommy glow?" Or do I look like death warmed over from lack of naptimes and early mornings that I'm not accustomed to?

Today, the three of us went to lunch and she said the same thing. "You just look like a mom!" I braved up and asked, "What are you trying to say? I don't know whether to be offended or flattered." Apparently, I have that "I'm tired, and you're lucky I'm fully-clothed as I bless you with my presence" look about me. I'd agree with that, I guess. I spend so much time making sure the kiddo looks presentable, I don't really think much about what I look like. As long as I manage to brush my teeth, put on deodorant, and (occasionally) don a bra if I'm going in public I feel pretty well put together. :-) And if I manage to get in a shower after the Drool Monster goes to bed, I think the day has been a whopping success and I am one hot mama (at least during the 10 hours before the Bodily Fluid Machine awakens).

I did catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror last Friday afternoon. I was frightened. My mom was sick thanks to me and Baby J, so I ended up watching my 4-year-old niece and nephew and the Booger Bear most of the day so my sister could work. She came over around 3:30 to take over so I could get some work in that evening, and I ran inside to (what I thought was just) throw on some lipstick and head into work. What I saw when I looked in the mirrow was scary bad. My hair was plopped up haphazardly on top of my head in a hairclip so the baby wouldn't keep pulling it. Yet somehow, there were several strands that had broken free and were flying around all over. I had been supervising water gun fights in which I ended up the unsuspecting victim, so I was sopping wet. I had spit up, drool, and snot stains (along with something orange... sweet potatoes?) all over my t-shirt. And I had somehow managed to make it through the day with smeary baby fingerprints all over my glasses.

How did this happen?!? I could have sworn I'd looked half-way decent that morning! Look at me now! I "look like a mom!" :-)