Sometimes I will meet someone and through that usual get to know you banter, it will come up that I have triplets. I sometimes get this response, "You don't LOOK like you had/have triplets!"
I'm never quite sure how to take that. Is it a compliment? A gut reaction to, well, my gut? The fact that it's still not the size of a classroom globe despite my babies being almost two years old? I'm never quite sure.
I suppose they expect me to look disheveled and world weary. My hair should be askew and out of place. Stains on a t-shirt that does not fit me. But when I find myself in these conversations, it's usually because I am somewhere on purpose with other adults, so I had time to do my hair, put on a clean shirt, etc.
However, today. If these people could have seen me this day, I think I looked a little closer to what they have in mind the mother of a trio of toddlers might look like. I was absolutely disheveled. My hair was reminiscent of when a sister of mine used to call me Medusa. The clothes I changed into were not pajamas, but I would have been comfortable in them if I curled up for an afternoon nap today. Which I didn't. Because for some reason, everyone decided that a nap was not important today. Everyone but mom. My vote gets outweighed easily. I also had a matching household and attitude to go with my look. Disheveled.
But it's quiet now, and the dinner dishes are done, thanks to a compassionate husband who took pity on his commoner wife. My busy, little people are asleep and it's actually acceptable to wear real pajamas at this hour. Tomorrow will be a different day.