You’re staring at me. Yeah — I noticed you through my peripheral vision as I was putting on my makeup at the stoplight.
You’re doing that mouth-open, head-shake-stare-thing. It’s cool — I get that a lot. I totally understand. It’s like you’re saying, “Your face looks daaaaaamn fine.” That, or uhm … you want to punch me in the face.
Either way, I’m betting your incredulity has to do with my face somehow.
Yes. I am putting on my makeup in the car. But only at the stoplights. Unless it’s blush, because I don’t need to look in the mirror when I put on my blush.
What do you mean I should organize my life better so I can do this before I leave the house? Seriously?? What makes you think I didn’t plan on doing this in the car?
Listen. I woke up this morning well before 6 o’clock. It’s my daughter’s 6th birthday, see, and I still had to make cupcakes to bring to her class. So I was going back and forth between making the cupcakes and the birthday pancakes — which are regular pancakes but the top one is frosted with cake frosting and sprinkles and has a little birthday candle in it? — while the hubby ran to the store to get eggs (out of eggs, wouldn’t you know it!). I was a little tired, because I was up late helping make a sock puppet for the kindergartener, and then sometime around 3 a.m. one of the middle-schoolers had trouble sleeping and woke us from a dead sleep to tell us. So yeah, I was a bit groggy, but I still was able to get those cupcakes done and the frosting ready and the gum paste stars (for the top of the cupcakes) all stamped out before I finished up the lunches and got the pancakes on the table for all seven kids.
Then I found a teen’s lost shoe.
And located two pairs of needed clean socks.
Aaaaaand caught the tween trying to escape the house without brushing her hair. Again.
Then I signed a permission slip while I explained to the mildly-off-put teens that I couldn’t give them rides home from school today because my lunch hour was booked with late-afternoon work meetings. So after finding a clean pair of undies and switching the laundry over, I realized it was 7:20. I jumped into the shower, bathed, hopped out, dressed, explained to the 6-year-old three times that I *would* be delivering the cupcakes to her class later in the morning — no later; no, honey, later than that, I can’t go to school with you; because I have to go to work; YES the cupcakes will be there YES I PROMISE; yes, pinky promise — and grabbed my purse and cell phone and was out of the house by 7:33.
After many “goodbyes” to the younger four, and after dropping one teen off at one high school, another at a different high school and the third at a yet another high school, I headed onward to work and arrived here — now — at this very moment, at this very stoplight, where you see me basking in the glory that is my cone of silence.
And yes. I chose this makeup moment. Every last bit of it.
And if I catch the subtext of that look on your face correctly, I agree: I look daaaaamn fine.
—By Traci Arbios, herdingsquirrels.com
Traci Arbios is a mom, stepmom, and working mom. She lives with and writes about her blended family of seven kids, five pets and one amazingly patient husband at www.herdingsquirrels.com. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org or zap her on twitter, @girlmonkey.