I used to be a professional.
I worked for several years as an administrative assistant/office manager while going to school, and then worked full time as a nurse for several months.
I wore dress slacks {and then scrubs}, make-up, did my hair, and {gasp} actually cared what people thought of my appearance.
I was organized, respected, efficient, and sociable.
And then I had children.
And I turned into a Mommy Monster.
The kind of monster who has taken "casual" dress to a whole new low. Instead of jeans and a nice t-shirt, it is now yoga pants and ratty 10 year old t-shirt, that morphs into pajamas, and then miraculously counts as clothes again the next day when I don't have time to change out of them.
The kind of monster who spends 25% of the day sitting on the kitchen floor feeding my children {and myself} various snacks while surrounded by every single thing that used to be in my cupboards and all thirteen letters I can find from off my fridge.
The kind of monster who doesn't ever look in the mirror but knows it can't be good because I can feel the "poof "of hair on top of my head that wasn't poofed before I went to bed.
The kind of monster who wipes snotty noses with my bare hands and maybe even wipes it on that same ugly t-shirt I'm still wearing from yesterday.
The kind of monster who realizes that showers are more optional than I ever thought possible before. This may or may not contribute to the poofy hair problem...
The kind of monster who wears a Moby wrap around the house even if I'm not wearing a baby, just in case he gets clingy again and needs to be thrown back in.
The kind of monster who rummages through the garbage can several times a day to dig out all the treasures that have been thrown in by four busy hands.
If you saw me on the street, you'd probably think I was a little crazy. And homeless. And needed a shower.
And some of that may be true.
But no, I'm not a monster. I am a mother.
The kind of mother who doesn't bother with appearance because I would rather spend time playing with my children than putting on make-up or ensuring my hair is just right. I may even go to the grocery store looking like this because we need food for dinner.
The kind of mother who is happy to sit on the kitchen floor because that's where my children are, the food is, and the high chair trays are still dirty. Plus it's easier to sweep up the crumbs and wipe away puddles of milk anyway.
The kind of mother who has more self esteem than what is reflected in the mirror.
The kind of mother who is willing to do absolutely gross things if that is what my children need. There is nothing I wouldn't do for my children. Their needs always come first.
The kind of mother who may work out, clean the house, clip fingernails, fix dinner, pay bills, or heaven forbid, use the bathroom, while my babies sleep instead of enjoying the luxury of taking a shower.
The kind of mother who loves to have a baby strapped on me to calm his sad cries and desires to be held.
And the kind of mother who is willing to go through the garbage to salvage favorite toys, expensive electronics, or articles of clothing.
And while I may look like I was hit by a bus, dragged through a puddle, and left to melt in the desert, I truly am happy. I am not a grumpy monster. I am simply a Mommy Monster. Full of love, tickles, giggles, and pure happiness.
