So, I guess I am that kind of mom.
I spent the weekend in Chicago pretending to be awake and fun for dinner reservations at 9pm, dancing at a club at 2am and for a show that started at 11pm. 
Chicago time.
 (that’s an hour behind the East Coast in case you’re wondering). 
While I was there, I had the pleasure of meeting a friend of the Bride who happens to serve as a private hair stylist to the Manhattan elite. Obviously, I saw my opportunity to sit and sleep with my eyes open while she did my hair for the night, so I pounced on her. I started off by listing my hair woes (a list that hasn’t changed much since middle school) and harped on how limp and greasy my hair is….and, of course, blamed it on the post baby hormones. And the water in Maine. And then the transition to different water in South Carolina. And my olive skin tone. 
She (pretend to) listened to my tirade and then looked me dead in the eye and said:
honestly, how often do you even blow dry your hair?
me: well, I have a…
her: and DON’T say “well, I have a baby”
me: uuuuh. I have a baby.
so, never.
It hadn’t even dawned on me that I was doing one of those “when I’m a mom, I’ll never…” things but, there I was, kicked can of dry shampoo in hand, blaming my oily scalp on my 10 month old. 
And then it happened. 
A single, childless semi-stranger read me the riot act.
My new friend told me that it was time I got my shit together. 
So what if I had a baby – I still had a hair dryer, right? 
I still showered, didn’t I? 
(she did not appreciate the expression I gave her in response to that question which was meant to be interpreted as “suuuuuure I do…..sometimes”)
Her point: it was time that I quit pulling the Mom Card and start prioritizing at least the basic level of personal maintenance.
So, ok, I don’t take care of myself like I used to.
My weight is a bit out of control for my frame and health, my eyebrows have to get really bushy before I get them waxed and my best friend begs me to get a mani on the reg. 
But I’m a Mom so I’m super busy.
If I’m being honest, I don’t really feel all that great about myself right now. 
I don’t love looking in the mirror, I hate the size of clothing that I’m purchasing to accommodate my size and I often discuss a certain medical procedure that I cannot wait to have on a certain part of my anatomy that is discussed far too often on this blog. 
I didn’t realize that I was making excuses until a perfect stranger called me on it.
And I was making excuses. Everything from the move, weather in Maine, weather in South Carolina, the baby, the apartment, the new house, the old house, hormones, being a stay at home mom, being a work from home mom, being a blogger, you name it, I used it to justify letting myself go.
And that shit is rogue.
So enough is enough.
I let the hairstylist therapy session sink in for a day or so and today I made a point of blow drying my hair, curling it, using product and putting on make up. 
I skipped shaving my legs, despite wearing a shorts romper, but I did put on a necklace, so I’m calling it a win. Baby steps, people, baby steps.
Tomorrow, I hope to go to our new neighborhood and check out a gym that has child care. If all else fails, maybe I’ll just drive over there to grab a shower and check emails in the locker room without a baby eating the corner of my soggy bath towel while picking at my toe nail polish (it’s gel, so it’s not going anywhere. I’m no fool).
I don’t want to be the kind of mom who let’s herself go and is unhappy in her own skin. I was never that way as normal person, why would I settle for that now that I’m a mother (with my child watching and learning from me, no less)? 
What is it about caring for another human that makes us completely ok with no longer caring for ourselves in even the most basic way? 
If you know the answer to that, leave it in the comments below, I’m too tired from all of my hair brushing and outfit wearing today to even attempt to solve that one.