Today was one of those days when I looked at the clock and thought, All right! It’s four o’clock! Just… four more hours until Dane gets home! And then kind of panicked because there were still four more hours until Dane gets home, and I didn’t really have a dinner plan, and the big kids need to get out and run but the baby needs a nap, and, and, and… yikes. ‘Those days,’ in case you are wondering, are also known as ‘Wednesdays.’ And sometimes ‘Thursdays’ or ‘Fridays.’ Well, and occasionally ‘Mondays’ or ‘Tuesdays.’ But always Wednesdays.

At that point, even knowing I would not see another adult for the next four hours, I went and reapplied my makeup. Seriously. Dane noticed me doing the same thing—putting on makeup late in the afternoon—on a recent Saturday and, after confirming that I was in fact reapplying my makeup, and that we were neither about to leave the house nor expecting guests, asked, “WHO are you doing THAT for?”

Please tell me you know the answer.

ME! I’m doing it for me, of course. Because I’m not that big a fan of shiny cheekbones and purplish under-eye circles. I don’t need to be reminded every time I walk past a mirror that I look like a weird shiny vampire. And while 94 hours in a row of sleep might be a better fix, makeup’s quicker and more feasible. I’ve heard that some mothers consider exhaustion to be a badge of honor. Sort of a “See how I sacrifice even my own health for my children!” deal. But me? I think it just kind of sucks.