Nothing. I’m just not wearing makeup.
Because I purposely stay up past my bedtime at night to do things I want to do– or to do absolutely nothing at all! Because it was 10:30pm and I could! The husband was asleep, the kids weren’t making a peep, and I could finally sit here and not be judged because I didn’t laugh at a line in Billy Madison.
And I woke up late because of it. So I said screw the makeup this morning and am now rocking a messy bun.
I did have time to make coffee though. Priorities.
At least my kids look like decent human beings. It’s one or the other– either I look good or the kids look good. Thank God my job is so laid back that their only dress code requirement is “as long as you’re not wearing pajamas“.
Leggings are pants!
I always regret it in the morning because I know it’s early and I have responsibilities (blah) and I need to have more brain activity than that of a zombie to get through the day. But it’s soooo worth it just to sit there and be me. Not mom me, not wife me, not employee me…just me. To sit here and google weird stuff, or read a book, or (this is the main thing I’m guilty of) just reflect back on pictures of my kids, my family . The one I made with the man currently sawing logs in my ear. Picture after picture of my tiny humans, the ones that will recognize me with or without makeup and still think I’m beautiful.
I am constantly giving bits of myself to everyone all day long. So my idea of late-night-shenanigans is less than ideal to the average joe. No interruptions, just silence (aside from snoring), and time to reflect.
I need to sit here and have my own uninterrupted thoughts. Instead of being asked “Mom, what if we were in that shark cage and a shark came up and we thought it wanted to eat us but instead the shark freed us from the cage because he thought we were stuck?“. I mean that’s an interesting question. But it’s definitely not one I have the answer to, especially when I’m trying to organize my own thoughts (which are no longer my own either since I’m sharing them with sharks now), but I answer it with “Maybe he’s a daddy shark and–”
“Do doo do do do doo”, interrupts my 16 month old. And cue the song! (If you haven’t heard it, you must. Listen here). Moving on.
I mean sleep is great and all. I just need a few more hours in the day is all I’m saying. Just two or three.
So until that can happen I’ll lay here, like the rest of you night owl moms and read this book until it falls flat on the floor because I fell asleep while reading it (like most nights, but in this case it ended up being my phone while writing this).
So… That’s what’s wrong with my face.