No one's looking at you anyway......

My babies are my life. Anyone who knows me knows that. And I love every minute of being with them. Even in those moments when they are both screaming, and diapers need changing, laundry is stacked to the ceiling and I am trying to carry on an adult conversation with the doctors office. At the end of the day, or perhaps the next morning I look back and I am grateful that I was there. This maybe a mess, but its my mess, and I get to see every moment and every first in theor lives.
Every stay at home mom knows that unless you can afford a nanny, who will love your children as you do, you tend to get pushed to the back burner. At this moment, my toes need painting, my roots need touched up badly, at the ends of the roots are split ends, and I have on zero make-up. In the few minutes that I get to myself a day (assuming that I can get both the babies asleep at the same time, nap or bedtime) I try to catch the crumbs on the counter, or fold the laundry. Sometimes I just sit with my feet up and read a chapter in the book I started reading 2 months ago. I don't have time to sit in a salon and be pampered. And I certainly cannot bring the babies with me. All those breakable shelves, and bottles of chemicals. Sharp scissors. I can see myself trying to get a haircut and having to get up, wet haired and cape covered to pull every bottle of shampoo out of Dublin's mouth. Or Ella walking away with someone's coffee. I tried to color my own hair at home and needless to say it turned out....interesting. If you want the beautiful highlighted hair in the ads you have to pay someone. Trust me.
A few years ago, someone close to me was trying to get me out the door so that we could go take care of errands. I was trying to fix my hair and put on some make up. I was a new mother and trying to salvage my dignity. I wanted to look as though I had it together, even if I didn't. Anyway, said person told me
"It doesn't matter what you look like, no one is looking at you anyways."
Even now, that brings tears to my eyes. I hung my head that day and we rushed out the door. I have never forgotten that comment and thinking about it I do tend to get pushed under the rug. I have been called Ella and Dublin's mom. And Ronnies wife. Even Mrs. Carter. I have ceased being Brandy. I have to make dinner and change diapers. Pull the rock out of Dublin's mouth before he swallows it. I am the keeper of the pretties and finder of the pacies. That keeps my day quite full. I organize the papers, and make sure people are where they need to be and when. But its never about me. There are only two times a day that I get for myself. My shower, and if I make it to the gym. But even those are subject to pre-emption.
I was a pretty good looking teenager. I was a cheerleader and on the dance team. I had a ton of friends and was never home on a saturday night. I knew how to flirt and get free things from people. I ate Subway everyday for a year and never paid for it. I knew what it would take to make guys drool, and I did it. I would spend an hour and a half on the hair, the makeup, checking myself out in the mirror. I would be perfect when I walked out the house. I know that I was vain. I probably shouldn't admit it but I was proud of it.
I lost that. I am grateful if I get a shower. The only time I do my hair and make-up is if I have somewhere to go, and even then, no guarentees. My wardrobe is jeans and a tee-shirt. Usually covered in food, baby boogers and dirt smears. I am the last person on my list and that makes me sad. So sad
I miss people looking at me.
I miss me