Just Call Me Frumpy

So, apparently, there's some sort of debate going on the mom-blogging world about this post.  Basically, she's explaining why she chooses not to be a "dirty mom".  You know the stereotype - like Lynette on early seasons of Desperate Housewives, this is the mom whose greasy hair is hiding under a hat, and whose sweatshirt and jeans are stained with God only knows what.  She looks tired, frazzled, and, well, a bit. . . frumpy.

May I present Exhibit A:

Ignore the dorky, self-conscious smile.  Instead, note the sweatshirt, and the messy (uncombed) hair hidden under a hat.  If I had taken a better picture, you'd see the brown stains on the sweatshirt, and the who-knows-what on my jeans.  Oh, and my legs?  Are ridiculously hairy.  Because it's winter, so :p
Actually, don't ignore the dorky smile, because it's very important.  You see, I'm happy this way.  I'm comfortable.  I can crawl around on the floor crashing cars with Miles.  I can go downstairs and work on craft projects.  I can clean the kitchen, or deal with a blow-out diaper, or add some grass stains while playing soccer with my son.  Whatever my crazy-busy, upside-down world throws at me, I can deal.  Without having to change clothes.

And if that makes me 'frumpy', then so be it.  I have better things to worry about.