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Twelve Minutes

Tonight I am having dinner with my girlfriends. I am trying to get ready while Grey whines at my feet, begging me with the sad look on his face to build a tower for him to knock down one more time. I hand him over to Matt when he gets in from work as I glance at the clock. I have exactly twelve minutes to get ready. I wash my face without removing my mascara because clearly twelve minutes is only enough time to reapply concealer and foundation. I change out of my spit-up covered jeans and my shirt that Grey used to wipe his nose several times this morning. I peek in the mirror, praying that I don’t look like I was knee deep in diapers today. With one minute left to spare, I run downstairs to switch to a purse that matches my outfit, which really means that I am taking my wallet and lipstick out of the diaper bag and putting it into an actual purse.  I seriously considered just taking the diaper bag with me. I mean, it’s a Vera Bradley. Nobody would notice, right?

As I get into my car, I breathe a sigh of relief. I take a quick look in the visor mirror before I pull out of the drive way. Not bad for twelve minutes. I am so exhausted from my getting-ready marathon that I’d almost rather just hit the Dunkin drive thru and sit in the parking lot and enjoy some time alone instead of going to dinner. Apparently becoming a mother has made me easy to please. I would volunteer to go pick up the dry cleaning, which has to be the absolute most boring errand EVER right up there with getting an oil change, if it meant leaving the house alone. It’s not that I don’t want Greyson with me (usually) but it’s that trying to get myself ready, get Greyson ready, pack the diaper bag, load the car, check the trunk for the stroller, fight Grey into his car seat, and so on… it seriously sometimes takes light years of time for us to get out of the house. Picture me carrying Greyson in his ridiculously large winter coat, while forcing the dog into the crate, then trying to pull on my (fake) Uggs with one arm without dropping the baby or the diaper bag… How do people with more than one child get anywhere, ever? Thank God I canceled my gym membership because this is a workout. Just trying to go to the gym would be more than enough physical activity for one day.

Greyson will turn one next month. Over the course of the year, I have gradually accepted that going anywhere will always be a sweat-breaking ordeal when you have children with you. And when you are given the luxury to leave the house alone, don’t get excited for a stress free outing – most likely you’ll only have twelve minutes to get ready.