When did I stop caring?

I really do believe that old adage "it's what's on the inside that counts". Pretty packaging is nice, but sometimes the nicest wrapping contains something awful. And vice versa. A plain brown box can contain the most wonderful gift ever. Having said that though, the world doesn't always operate that way. Most of the time, people take the first impression and run with it. Think about it, isn't it at least a little true?

When I met my husband, I was just shy of 30. I wasn't obsessed with my appearance, not by a long shot. But I knew which clothing looked nice on me. I wore makeup because it enhanced my natural beauty. I took care in getting dressed for the day. It made me feel really good, and my outside matched my inside.

Slowly, I let life creep in and rob me of all desire to groom. I've actually said all of the following, at one time or another:

Why bother putting on makeup? No one will see it anyway.
Why bother buying new clothes? They'll just get stained, ripped, or otherwise stretched.
Shopping is too hard - nothing fits my body properly.
I don't have the time to be fussy about my appearance.

Each of those statements, while true to some degree, is also false.

Even if I don't leave the house, my children and husband see me. And they are not "no one". And most days, I leave the house for something or other. Whether it's taking C to preschool, going to the grocery store, Bible study, or playgroup, other people do see me. And am I putting my very best out there? No way. I'm putting out an older, more tired version of me. I'm giving so much less of myself than there is to offer. Right down to the stretched, stained t-shirts and baggy, falling-down jeans.

While it is true that with three little people around, I do earn my fair share of stains, I could definitely do a lot more towards caring for my clothes - like taking care of them sooner rather than later. Too often, I get marked in the morning, and continue to wear it all day, then put the item in the wash, where it sits for a day or two, and by then, no stain remover in the world will get out whatever stain it is.

Shopping IS hard - I'm short, and a bit ... erm, round.I know clothing manufacturers have to cater to an average sampling of the population, which means that any pair of pants large enough to accommodate my curves are about ten inches too long. I am also a cheap shopper, and find it difficult to spend more than $10 on a single item. Which means that I'm limited to mainstream shops like Big W and Kmart, which are okay, but are limited to what's currently in fashion. Last year it was the 80s look - not flattering for me. The year before, it was bohemian, also not a good look for me. I think this year, it seems to be all about the empire waistline, which only makes me look pregnant. There is also the matter of breastfeeding to consider - all tops must be easy to manage, at least for the next 8 months or so. The point is, that with a bit of effort, and a good seamstress at the ready, It's possible.

Time- Ah, the bane of any modern mother. I say I don't have the time, but if I'm honest with myself, I really do. In my case, it boils down to this: laziness and poor time management. Harsh, but true. I choose to put other things first. My house might be clean, but I look a mess. My children have scrubbed faces and tidy hair, but I don't.

I haven't become superficial or shallow. I've simply become tired of the disconnect between my inside and my outside. That's what I want. To see photos of me, and recognise myself from the outside. To put the best of me on offer, for my family and friends, and to make the most of who God has created me to be.

XO,
Sarah

Busy

I’ve been super busy the last month or so. Nothing out of the ordinary, just finding that oh-so-elusive rhythm to being a mother of three. Finding a balance in everyday life, making sure no one gets neglected, just normal stuff.

P has been teething, and can I just say it? Molars suck. My mother would be aghast to know that I’ve used that particular phrase, and more than likely my mother-in-law as well, but it truly fits. Picture in your mind, an angry hippo, with its mouth open in a howl. That is how she spends much of her day. Nothing is right, ever. And if it’s not a howl of outrage, then it’s wordless whining, indecipherable to me. I’d have better luck translating hieroglyphics than figuring out what it is that she wants (or doesn’t want) 99.9 percent of the time.

M is sick again, just another cold. Still, we’re very blessed as she is a ‘good’ baby. Only gets cranky between the hours of 5pm-8pm, and is otherwise quite happy and settled.

C is also sick, with a random cold. I gave her Dimetapp the other day, and Dimetapp – if you’re listening? Figure out a way to make your cough medicine taste like chocolate. Because that Great Grape flavour you bang on about? Isn’t fooling anyone. I’ve never tasted it, but based on the wrestling match I had with her yesterday, it tastes like battery acid mixed with rat poison, simmered in a pot of turpentine.  For reals.

L and I got to go to a dinner/show the other night, it was an ABBA tribute band, and they played all my favourite songs. The keyboard player was hysterical, and the guitarist looked like Garth from Wayne’s World, but without the glasses. The food was really nice, and it was good to get out and pretend we were adults!

Today has been a bit of a challenge, but at least it’s not stifling hot – only 83 degrees, and 57% humidity today. And hooray, only 78 days until fall!

C is supposed to be singing in the carols by candlelight program tonight, dressed as a little angel – I don’t particularly want to go, but if we do decide to go, I’ll leave the other two children at home with Dad. It would be nice to spend some time alone with C, and there will be fireworks too, so I dunno.

Have all but finished the Christmas shopping – all that’s left is to find time to make all the handmade gifts, and finish wrapping them up. I love giving presents to people, and I love to cook as well – so giving edible gifts is perfect!

Gotta go, girls are playing with things they shouldn’t be.

XO,

Sarah