"Wow, Mom, where are you going? Out with Daddy?" James asked.
"Nope, just taking you to school."
"Wow, Mom, you smell reeeeeallly good!" Jude crowed.
"Mommy, are you sure you're not going anyplace special?" Jewel asked. "I mean, you're even wearing lipstick!"
There's no denying it. Wear the lipstick, style the hair and the children assume it's Special Day. I'd gotten into a bad habit, see. Throwing my hair up in a pony-tail bun, abandoning the makeup and schlumping around in sweats was the norm.
The Don't-Mess-With-The-Pregnant-Lady excuse was getting lots of air-time around here.
There was nothing wrong with looking schlumpy. My family still loved me. My husband still thought I was pretty. Until one evening when we were cuddled up on the couch watching football (I'm really trying to understand this thing called football)--
"You shaved your legs!" he observed, like how other guys do upon discovering: Hey! There's beer in the fridge!
"You noticed?" I asked.
"I noticed this morning that they weren't shaved."
Great. Obviously I've grown too reliant on the Guys Don't Notice That Stuff theory.
It seemed I'd let things slip a little too much. Not that hubby was complaining, really. But him noticing the difference between shaven and unshaven? I'm not comfortable with that, even if I am pregnant.
Just because I'm a stay-at-home-mom doesn't mean I get to look like a schlump. Yes, I'm busy. Yes, I'm tired. But does my husband appreciate it when I make a little effort to look decent?
"You look nice," he said the other day upon arriving home from work.
Yep, he likes it. And hearing him say so made me feel appreciated, too.
So here's to shaving more than once a month--even if I have to reach around my big ol' preggo belly.