Bluffin' with my muffin

I know when I left the house my pants were clean. But when I got to the library to meet up with all the other moms, there were a pile of grass clippings, a few smeared in bites of snack, and some sort of gooey substance on them. Not to mention that on the way home I spilled coffee on my shirt. Not that it's a special shirt, but it's one of the only ones that is baggy enough to cover my muffin. I have an eternal muffin. Kind of like an eternal flame, but hotter.

I did see a girl I hadn't seen in awhile who told me I looked exactly the same. But she was drunk and it was dark. She probably thought it was a charity compliment. Like her good deed for the day. Or maybe it was the Spanx. And the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol.

My sister told me about a mom she sees at the playground sometimes. This woman, she said, always looks fantastic. Like great outfit, make up, hair, the works. But she leaves her kids in pajamas. And it totally makes sense to me. There's really only room for one of us to look cute. And Declan doesn't really care what he looks like. Maybe I should take this woman's approach. I'd certainly look better...to myself. I think I might be the only one enjoying my new glamour. I'm certain that if people will hand out parenting advice in a public restroom after seeing you for a split second, they wouldn't hesitate to let you know how black your soul is for focusing on yourself instead of your kid.

But if I don't blowdry my hair, I look like Mandy Patinkin from Princess Bride. "My name is Lana Corcoran, stop staring at my dirty outfit or prepare to die."



So now I'm taking my precious daily free time to ponder how I can get these coffee stains out and whether or not I should wear this stained outfit the rest of the day. On the plus side, if I leave it on, less laundry. On the minus, people might think we live in the woods. Choices.