I am Lazy.

This morning as I dropped Chloe off at the babysitter's house, I was asked if I just dyed my hair. Not in a couple of months, no. Later in the afternoon, I had a co-worker asked if I had just cut my hair. The other two agreed that it looked different as well. Nope, no haircut. 

But something is different. 

Today is day one of my third week at this job, and it's the first time since my first day of work that I've taken my hair out of it's always-there ponytail and straightened it. I even *gasp* put on makeup. 

Eric noticed that I was putting makeup on for the second time in three days and jokingly asked if I was having an affair. 

The whole world erupts when you all of a sudden start putting a bit of effort into your appearance, or so I've learned. I'll admit that the attention even feels a bit nice. And it also feels nice to feel like I don't look like "The Mom" in the less-than-designer clothes, messy hair and naked face. Although my clothes are still cheap. 

In reality, I'm just a lazy person. When given the choice to sit on my butt, or get off it and put on makeup and play with the hair straightener, I pick butt-sitting. I'm oh so lazy. 

I get dressed up for weddings. Bar nights. Parties. Not a whole lot else. 

In reality, I spend a lot of my non-working time driving people to and from work and babysitters, making meals, washing little hands, bathing a little body (and my own slightly bigger body), playing with babies and princesses, running around the apartment dancing and yelling, wiggling our butts, jumping on beds and reading some books with exaggerated voices. 

That's pretty much all I have the energy for most days. 

I yawn a lot. 

Being a mom makes me lazy. 

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That's a lie. I was always lazy. Now it's just worse.