The Wife

All my bashful beauties out there, go ahead and blush now, because as a wife I need to talk about being sexy. A woman's ability to recreate herself in private and then reemerge in front of her man like a goddess is not only a necessary (and functioning) talent, but also a major privilege.

Daydreams of getting ready patiently and delicately putting on my makeup; fixing each straight piece and curly piece of hair into the right place. The perfect 90's R&B beat in the background, drinking a glass of wine while I dance on the perfect outfit to get a jaw drop.

Being physically sexy really is your significant other's appeal towards you... But to feel sexy emotionally is an essential piece of a woman's confidence. It's the amount of sexiness she feels within herself, and therefore, controls the amount of sexiness she can exude.

Don't get it twisted ladies, men need their sexy time too. It's where they build up that strong man gruff that we love to fawn over so much.

However, when you're working, taking care of your little loves (Beasts), and still trying to maintain the basics; like showering, cleaning, bills, and blah and blah... you lose that privilege of being alone and recreating yourself back into the goddess you want to feel like again. Plus, it kind of loses its magic if they have to wait and watch every single step of the process (especially the spanks going on).

I hardly ever start out the day intending to look like I've rolled through the yard wearing dirty loose pajamas, but that's usually what I end up with.

I yell from the bathroom as I straighten the most frizzy pieces of hair. "Get it baby! Get it baby! Get it- get it-wooo!" The 2 and 3 year old are dancing to the music while jumping in their bouncy house. It fills most of the living room, but it keeps the boys busy for at least 10 minutes and the baby gets distracted by the loud noises so I can leave him in the play pen.

My makeup is spread out around and in the sink, the straightener cord so tangled I can barely lean away from the mirror. I just don't want to look terrible for one day this week!

The laundry beside me is halfway done, but I caught a look at myself in the mirror and was trying to fit in a quick makeover before lunch. I pulled a real people outfit out of the dryer and tossed my mommy rags into the dirty basket.

Quickly, quickly, I tell myself, before someone cries. Eyebrows, eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara. Good. I pin my hair in the front so it looks full and bodacious. Then I fluff the wild curls out in the back and they fall almost to my tailbone. Naively, I leave the bathroom with my hair down, denying how quickly I will get a handful pulled out of my head.

The day goes on smoothly with my confidence boosted to full sexy. Ketchup splatters on my pants at lunch, aren't as irritating as usual, the screams not as harsh, and I keep scoring awesome mommy points as I deescalate each situation as it confronts me, prepare healthy snacks before they ask, and keep them moving from inside to outside in the yard so they don't feel cooped up. Someone get my Mommy cape!

On other days, when I don't shower and clean myself up, when I don't get that confidence boost, my temper flares and gets alarmingly shorter; I don't even feel like I have the mental aptitude to be silly and fun.

By bedtime, I'm soaring and my Mommy ego fills the house. It's 7pm, so Daddy gets to spend a few hours with the kids before heading to his shift.

I want so badly to feel flirty and cute, but when I go to the bathroom to check the bathwater status, I see my hair somehow ended up in that terrible bun again and pulled the pins out, there was ketchup along my jawline, and the baby had chewed and puked down the shoulder of my shirt. My makeup had lost it's flare. One of my eyebrows was crooked. I looked down at my hand; there was a large back smudge on the back. In the midst of scoring Mommy points, I had subconsciously wiped off my head, and part of my left eyebrow.

Deflated, I turn to leave the bathroom but my foot lands into something huge and soaking. My sweet angel beastly Beast had kicked off his diaper to pee pee, flush flush, and get in the tub, and I was too busy checking out my frightful reflection to notice.

Please, for once, don't be any poop. My hopes might be high, but we all know the answer to this one.

I tell hubby how I wish I could look sexy for him and he assures me that he thinks I'm sexy always. I tell him he always looks sexy no matter what and I look like a bloated run over version of the person he met. He is just as unconvinced as me that we find each other so attractive at all times because no one feels sexy in the midst of teething, terrible two's, and ADHD meltdowns. It's a boundary that's under construction for sure.

This time a toast (as silly as it sounds) to the beauty of having personal sexy time, to teaching our kids the importance of self-care, respect, and hygiene, to keeping our significant other chasing after us, and feeling like a desirable minx while we make formula bottles and Dino nuggets with dippy sauce.

We aren't selfish monsters for wanting to look and feel sexy and we can always be a better Mom and Dad and Hubby and Wife tomorrow.