Changes

Please don't call Child Protective Services on me for what I'm about to say.  I can guarantee you that I would never physically harm my children.  I've come to realize that being a parent is loving your child with such intensity that you would die for them yet at the same time you feel like you could kill them at any moment.  In the end someone is dying and more than likely it's you because most of us are sane and wouldn't actually harm our children.  Or, maybe it's a little bit of your previous self that dies every day after having children and therefore less of a literal death.

Take me for instance.  I look in the mirror and wonder where the knock-out blonde from just a few short years ago has gone.  In her place is a brunette (recently dyed) who could care less what she looks like.  In a way it's sort of liberating not feeling like I have to dress to impress and no longer do I feel it necessary to wear a full face of make-up and cute outfit because "you never know who you might run into" when running errands.  If I've even made it into anything that doesn't remotely resemble sweatpants it's a good day.  If I put in my contact lenses it's an even better day.  And if I'm wearing make-up then there must be something really special taking place that day.  If I get to take a shower in the morning as opposed to the evening after the kids have gone to bed then I'm calling it a day because it doesn't get much better than that.  I suppose it's a good thing that my priorities have changed.  There are a few things I don't really miss like drinking my face off every weekend but I have to admit...I miss me.  The me I mentioned above.  The me who did care about what she looked like and wouldn't be caught dead with her glasses on and no make-up in public.  I like to think this is just a phase and as soon as I, and the girls, are more adjusted I'll find myself again.  Until then I'll be the one wearing pajama jeans and glasses at your local Wal-Mart.