Keeping Up Appearances
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Today I have a guest post from the lovely Vicky over at Tactical Mummy. Vicky lives at home with her husband, Pickle, the dog and two cats. The name ‘Tactical Mummy’ comes from a conversation Vicky had with one of her very best mummy friends – she knows who she is. At the time, Vicky was bemoaning Pickle’s refusal to eat anything except beans on toast. Her friend confessed that that very evening she had resorted to feeding her son a ‘tactical’ peanut butter sandwich. To Vicky, that was what being a Mummy was all about. We all of us strive for perfection, but sometimes, along the way we fall short of our ideals. But if we see these moments, not as failure, but as a way of ensuring the survival of both our sanity and our little ones, then employing these tactics is surely a vital part of the immeasurably difficult but wonderful job of mummying? And this is how The Tactical Mummy was born.
Here is Vicky's post about Keeping up appearances as a Mummy:
‘Your
hair looks nice,’ declares Daddy, out of the blue.
Mummy
looks at Daddy slightly askance and then briefly glances at her phone
to check it’s definitely not April Fools’ Day.
She
can’t remember the last time she did her hair properly. She thinks
longingly of those days when she spent a good hour in front of the
mirror: carefully straightening, teasing and applying swish products
from the upmarket salon she used to be able to afford. They are no
more. Now it’s a quick rinse under the shower if she’s lucky and
straight into the ‘mum bun’, which is in fact a fashion statement
in itself. Or, rather, a complete disregard for any kind of fashion
and instead a statement that Mummy is Too Tired, Can’t Be Bothered
and Has Stopped Caring.
‘What
do you mean?’ asks Mummy suspiciously.
Daddy
stutters slightly.
‘I
mean, it looks less, you know. Frizzy. Less like pubes and more
naturally wavy.’
Mummy
feels a bit sorry for him. She would be upset, except that she
herself is perfectly aware of the peculiar wispy bits that seem to
have developed, sticking sideways out of the side of her head, ever
since the Pickle made his appearance. The problem, Mummy thinks to
herself, is that not that he referred to her hair as pubes, but that
he is indeed correct.
Mummy
wonders when she actually stopped caring.
When
exactly was the point at which she decided that she could quite
happily wear ten-year-old Bridget Jones knickers and ripped jeans?
(Not trendily ripped, mind you, but ripped due to the number of times
she has knelt down to change the Pickle).
It’s
not that she doesn’t care about what she looks like – she just
doesn’t have time to care. And if she allowed herself to actually
care, then she probably wouldn’t leave the house at all and would
be swigging wine far before the sun descended over the designated
yard arm (which seems to vary considerably, depending on the number
of Pickle-tantrums in a day, anyhow).
In
some ways, it gives Mummy a certain level of freedom. No one expects
her to look wide-eyed and bushy tailed, with make-up carefully
applied, nor do they expect her to sashay down the pavement in the
latest bang-on-trend outfit. As long as Pickle is dressed perfectly
from head to toe in Baby Joules, Mummy knows no one is really going
to care if she arrives in an old sack.
Sad
though it is, Mummy feels that there is something satisfying in
knowing that someone else always comes first. For the first time in
her life, she is more concerned over someone else’s appearance and
well-being than her own. And because she is basically entitled –
nay required – to dress in the Mum Uniform of leggings, t-shirt and
baggy cardy with milk stains, why on earth go to all that bother of
applying mascara?
Mummy
does feel slightly sorry for Daddy though, who probably did not sign
up to be with someone whose hair resembles pubes, has a slightly
baggy mum-tum and whose idea of dressing up for the evening is
basically wearing clothes that does not have yesterday’s banana
smushed into them.
On
balance, she thinks it was pretty nice of him to find something to
complement at all.
Mummy
smiles, ignores the pube comment and says ‘thank you dear’.
Daddy
breathes a sigh of obvious relief. What he doesn’t know is that
Mummy is also secretly planning to hit the hairdressers and the high
street the very next day, armed with his credit card and a copy of
Vogue a childless friend accidentally left behind the last time they
came to see Pickle in his Baby Joules. One really does have to draw
the line somewhere, and Mummy feels that having your hair compared to
pubes is probably it.
*Mummy would love to know how
you deal with those peculiar post-baby wispy bits and whether your
own appearance has become second to that of your baby’s since
giving birth.
Thank you Vicky I'm sure a lot of you Mummy's can relate to the post baby wispy bits, I still have some 2 and half years later.
You can find Vicky over on the following pages:
18 comments
Utterly brilliant! I can definitely relate to this, being much in need of a haircut myself!
ReplyDeleteOh Vicky, pubes really? Did he say that? I wouldn't have been so forgiving! And the wispy bits, I just live with them sadly. Mich X
ReplyDeleteOmg LMAO 😩 "Less like pubes and more naturally wavy" ahhh I think its nice mummy decided to accept the compliment daddy found but I could imagine that having children and finding time to doll up like you once did is a hardship.
ReplyDeleteha ha, great post. really made me smile and nod along x
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness haha!! I would be SO upset if my husband described my hair like that! I think I need to lighten up haha! x
ReplyDeleteOh my I would fly off the handle if someone said that about my hair Lol. It did make me laugh though x
ReplyDeleteErrr...less like pubes what a backhanded compliment! I wonder what my other half thinks about the way I look a lot of the time I'm so lucky his vision is terrible!
ReplyDeleteFirstly, what a brilliant description... "less like pubes"... Man, my OH would tear my head off for a comment like this... Secondly, I think both my OH and I have been in this state for a while now. Getting "dressed up" just isn't something we do anymore...
ReplyDeleteI can't relate to this directly but I can totally see it through my mum! I'm one of four - I'm 21 and my youngest brother is 4. So she's been in full mum mode for about 25 years!!!
ReplyDelete'Less like pubes', erm, what?! I would have totally gone off the rails at him, even if it was meant to be a backhanded compliment. ♥
ReplyDeleteChris would be in major trouble if he said this to me...
ReplyDeleteWhat a great guest post! Jeez it can be hard to keep up when you become a parent - I think I went nearly a year without having a haircut - simply did not have the time
ReplyDeleteLaura x
Urgh I've been through the same thing. I had a part at the very front of my hair by my fringe. It was like a mans haircut. Razor sharp and short where it wasn't regrowing. I even tried changing where my fringe was but nothing covered it. Loved reading this x
ReplyDeleteHaha! That was a good one. I just can't stop laughing about the pubes. I would agree with Gareth, I think there will come a point that we no longer dress to impress.
ReplyDeleteHaha! Love the pubes comment!! I don't think I would have been so forgiving either!!!
ReplyDeleteDefinitely relateable as a mum it's so hard to keep up up with getting your hair done ect.
ReplyDeleteTaslyn| www.hiddenbeau-t.co.uk
That is something my hubby would say and yes, I'd have to agree! I would spend hours perfecting my look before kids, now its just a case of throwing on my mum clothes and hoping for the best!
ReplyDeleteHaha yes he really did say this!!! Glad you all enjoyed reading it and I'm also glad that I am not the only one to experience the odd post-partum wispiness!!!
ReplyDelete