Moms Who Get Ready in the Morning Clearly Have More Time Than Me

busy mom baby

Somewhere out there, I'm sure there are moms who spend an hour or more each morning taking a sudsy warm shower, carefully applying mascara, and even straightening their hair and putting product in it. Those moms aren't me. Nor are they anyone I know.


I haven't gotten myself "ready" in the morning in eight years since I quit my full-time, in-office job to stay home with the kids. Morning shower? I don't even know what that feels like anymore.

My daily routine looks more like this: My husband brings the baby to me at 5 a.m. She nurses for an hour while I fall in and out of sleep. By 6 a.m. all three of my children are in my bed, piled up like puppies on top of my husband. If the baby falls back asleep, I carefully place a pillow beside her so she won't roll away and climb over the rest of my sleeping brood.

More from CafeMom: I Wear My Pajamas to School Dropoff -- Can It, Judgy Moms!

I get downstairs, pop open my computer, brew some coffee, do the dishes I was too tired to do last night, pump what little milk I have left for the sitter, and desperately try to get a little head start on work before all three kids are up and needing things. From me. And apparently only me.

During this time, I also manage to (usually) pull off my pajamas and pull on a pair of yoga/workout pants, which are (somewhat) clean. I also sometimes try to actually workout to justify said pants. Of course, that doesn't always happen.

I also pull my hair into a ponytail, wipe off the remnants of whatever face mask I wore to bed the night before, and sometimes even change my bra/underwear/shirt. Sometimes.

Once my kids are all up too, there are lunches to pack, inevitable laundry to throw in the wash, breakfast dishes to clean, permission slips to sign, squabbles to break up, and dogs to walk and feed. Hop in the shower? Yeah, right. For that matter, brushing my hair is a pipe dream too.

By the time I am giving the kids the five-minute warning scream that we need to leave for school, the baby is almost always crying, my eggs are almost always burning, and that stupid loving, angelic dog is nearly always barking. Success is the moment we get out the door, baby strapped to my front in my trusty carrier, kids with backpacks strapped to their backs, and usually (hopefully) both shoes on the right feet and pants on the right way. (This morning we were not so lucky, but I digress.)

Typically during this time I also manage to slip on a pair of shoes, too. And by slip on, I mean whatever I can cram my feet into while screaming at my kids to "HURRY UP!"

Assuming I have my keys in hand -- sometimes I don't and I need to call my angry husband to tell him I am locked out. Again. -- we are off to school.

The walk is only two blocks, but there are bunnies to see and rocks to pick up and sticks to break, so two blocks can sometimes FEEL more like 10 miles, especially as my baby (who likes to face inward) is motor-boating my chest and grabbing at my nipples.

"Mamamamamamamam," she says as I struggle to stay covered long enough to drop the older kids at school. Flashing before 9 a.m. is not a good look on the school playground. My yoga pants (or pajama bottoms or ratty old cutoffs), unwashed face, ponytailed hair, and Birkenstocks are a much better bet than that, right?

Once the kids are kissed, dropped off with their teacher, and headed into class to learn all day, I am rushing back, trying to avoid any moms who will ask me to join committees or watch their kids after school or do any number of things I don't even have the time to say no to. And by then, the baby is ready for her nap and I am running late for the sitter's arrival.

I typically walk in just as she's pulling up and the baby is fussy. We do the hand-off and I race upstairs to 10 new emails already crowding my inbox, all of which need to be responded to immediately. The workday has begun.

If there's time for a shower or a new, clean outfit, I don't see it. Some mornings I manage to squeeze in a run, but then it's all the same, only MORE crammed for time -- with a lot more sweat drips.

The fact is we moms are insanely busy. Having three children, I barely have time to breathe, let alone shower. Sure, I DO manage to bathe every day, but it's often long after the workday has ended and my husband is back home tending to the children.

Do I stink? Sometimes. Do I hate it? Only kind of. I am okay with the trade-off I make for happy, healthy, clean children and a thriving, busy career that helps me contribute to their college fund. I am not the only one, either. In fact the only moms who look hot at drop-off are the ones who are rushing to catch the 9:03 into Midtown. The rest of us look like we just rolled out of bed.

Of course, most of us haven't. We've lived six lives by 9 a.m. Unfortunately showering wasn't a part of any of them.

My husband and I sometimes argue about chores, particularly making the bed. He says, "Why bother? We'll just mess it up again that night." I disagree. Making the bed is the way I signal to my head that a new day has begun.

Of course, he has no leg to stand on. He showers by 8 a.m., after all. But I see showering the way he sees making the bed. Why bother when I am just going to spend my day writing, sweating, having the baby drool on me, and being seen by no one except the UPS man.

Getting ready is a waste of my most precious resource, and my morning routine can be explained with just one viral catch phrase: "Ain't nobody got time for that."

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