I’m at that point in life where I consider brushing my hair as making an effort, so you can imagine my ongoing disgruntlement over the fact that I don’t awaken each morning looking like a glowing, charmingly freckled, incredibly wealthy, fresh faced, Blake Lively. Due to unfortunate circumstances known as genetics, my face doesn’t do that. Nor do I wake up next to Ryan Reynolds. Not that I would even want to [never] [not even one time] [why would you] [he probably has bad breath].
Anyway, point being, either I put make up on or I look homeless and three years deep in a drug addiction; there is no in between.
So whilst I would like to be one of those #blessed women who can just splash some water on their naturally dewy face, slick on some paw paw lip balm and be ready to face another day in a fur trimmed puffer vest and ankle booties, I am not that person. I’m that person who goes out without any make up on and has to respond to every second person saying “you look tired” or “are you sick?” or “can I just check your bag before you leave the store?”
That being said, I do, however, attempt to reserve make up for the times that I’m going out and might see someone I know.
I live in Adelaide, so that’s every time I go out.
So, in my four and a half years as a mum of, now, three delightful and yet time sucking small humans, I have devised a fail safe, daily [twice a week max] makeup routine.
Because even though mum life isn’t pretty sometimes, it doesn’t mean I can’t be. [scoff scoff] [yes it does].
Hide from children in the bathroom.
Note: this also works reasonably effectively as “hiding from husband” and can buy a good seven to ten minutes for checking Facebook and/or Instagram “I just need to do a poo” [no I don’t].
Get hair out of face by roughly putting it up in a messy bun. I can fix it later. [I won’t].
Note: I’ve owned roughly about 7000 bobby pins in my life. How many do I have now? Four. I have four.
Wash off the remnants of yesterday’s makeup that I didn’t take off last night before I collapsed into my pillow face first and fell asleep listening to NCIS on the TV which is apparently on every night now.
Remember a time long long ago in a faraway place before baby wipes doubled as makeup remover and briefly lament the fact that spit cleaning my own mascara from under my eyes is not only a viable option for me but a daily occurrence.
“I’ll be there in a minute!!!!!!!!!”
…Apply something that might be face moisturiser, and might be…
“I said I’ll be there in a minute!!!!!”
…And might be hand cream, but they’re basically the same thing so…
“I.SAID. I’ll be there IN.A.MINUTE”
…so that’ll be fine right? [it stings your eyes like a mother f*cker and you will never not have a pimple ever again in your human existence].
Step 5… Wait was it 4? No it’s 5. 4. No, 5:
Mix the too dark for my skin tone Woolworths select brand foundation I bought because I ran out of my nice stuff in 2012 and haven’t had the money chance to replace it, with the remnants of the too pale sample packet of foundation I’ve been squeezing out of its wrapper for the last three months, to concoct a colour that vaguely resembles my skin tone in the less than Broadway musical quality lighting of my bathroom but will be a whole different and ultimately unfortunate story in actual daylight. One that reads something like this:
Slap half the three quarter strength DIY foundation on my face.
Wipe son’s bottom. Because #shithappens. Usually when I’m busy trying to do something else.
Slap rest of foundation on face.
Blend into neck in the kind of vigorous fashion that means I have also completed my required cardio for the day.
Kids seem too quiet.
I’m sure they’re fine.
Imagine multiple elaborate scenarios where they’re not in fact fine.
In addition to a few scenarios where the television screen is not fine.
Go check they’re not kidnapped/dead or trying to put pants on the dog.
Subsequently foil four year old twins plans to colour my toddlers hair black with permanent texta. [meanest mum ever][creativity stifler]
Return to bathroom. Followed by toddler. [crap].
Close toilet lid so my toddler can’t drop my hairbrush into the toilet [again].
Profesh mum make up tip officially developed, tried, tested under [un]controlled conditions and endorsed by me:
How to apply liquid eyeliner when you have children
Do something approximating blush on my cheeks that ends up being my whole face, thus completing the circle of ineffectual make up application whereby you remove redness with foundation only to reapply redness with blush [go figure].
Toddler goes through drawers only to discover an extravagant wonderland of cutips, eyeliner pencil sharpenings, hair accessories that look deceptively like donuts and an unused pregnancy test from two months ago [dodged that bullet] [crisis averted].
Toddler melt down ensues after a dramatic prevention of toilet paper unravelling marathon and tense hostage negotiations over tube of toothpaste.
Apply mascara whilst holding 11kg toddler on one hip who likes to swat my face and then laugh.
Silently acknowledge that no matter what the packaging said, my eyelashes will not have 400% more volume and in fact instead of having eyelashES I now have one giant, thick eyeLASH.
This could have something to do with the fact that I haven’t bought a new mascara since 2007.
Dear sneeze, if you’re going to happen please don’t happen just after I’ve applied my mascara.
[Why do bad things happen to good people]
Come up with new make up regime to try next time that goes something like this:
Step one: Give kids iPad
Step two: Do make up in peace
So that’s how it’s done. Easy. See? This is why I’m [never] asked how I find the time to look so put together when I have three young children.
Besides which, who even needs a makeup palette when you could have chicken nugget dipping sauce.