I’m not lyin’, ya’ll. When I wake up in the morning, I look like a friggin’
sex goddess. My wild, tousled curls trail down my back, my lips are plump, and my DDs are ROCK HARD. But alas, when I wake up looking this way it is 5:30 a.m. with nary person even remotely awake enough to appreciate it.
By the end of the day, my clothes are stained with breast milk from some drippy pumping accident or a leak and my hair is pulled up into a pony tail or bun because it drives me nuts. I immediately change out of my work clothes into
yet another pair of sweat pants something more comfortable so that I can nurse the little dude. Once the game of “are you gonna take this breast or not?” has concluded, I wrap myself in a bathrobe and take the baby downstairs in pursuit of sustenance. By the time I’ve eaten dinner, given our guy some oatmeal or rice cereal (he’s on solids ya’ll!), and had a few down minutes, it’s time for bath time, a top off before bed. Ya’ll, I’m a hot mess by 8:30 every night and completely exhausted. Gone is the hot mama with the bed head and the boobs. In her place stands a haggard, frizzy, saggy and just. plain. tired. me.