Over the last several years makeup ceased to be a sort of "fun collection of art supplies for my face" and morphed into "the paint and spackle necessary for me to show my mug in public." Where I once swiped on some mascara and lip gloss and called it good, I now rarely leave the house without a full coating of concealer and powder. I mean, my kids may be used to my Morning Face, but I don't want to scare the other children, you know?
Since I do my best to get out of the house every morning, every morning requires about twenty minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, applying the mask. God bless the makeup manufacturers, am I right? I've finally hit on a Winning Combo of products that transform me from Young Zombie Mom to Fit For Human Contact. If I work really hard I can almost move my face into Maybe I'll Get Carded At The Grocery Store! territory, but let's be honest, that's way too much effort.
Jack is mildly interested in my drawer of powders and potions, but after my third or fourth, "GET OUTTA MY DRAWER!" he escapes to a Mommy Free room where no one's around to see him dive over the couch or whack his foam sword against the windows. He'll ask for a puff from the blow dryer or a smear of Chapstick, but that's about it. Makeup is really just code for "I have enough time to sneak into the cookie stash AND eat all of them AND leave a trail of crumbs as I escape AND transform my expression into The Picture Of Innocence by the time she finds me!"
Molly, on the other hand, is interested. Not just interested - she's ENTHRALLED. She's not always nearby when I do my face, but if she's not howling at her brother or helping to destroy the playroom, she'll come find me and demand that I hoist her onto the counter so she can see. And then? "Do me Mommy! Do me!"
Everything I apply to myself is met with a "Want some!" from my biggest admirer. A brush of powder for me, a brush for her. A dab of blush for me, a dab for her. Eyeshadow? I'll drag the brush across her eyelids. Lip gloss? I'll dot a little bit on her bottom lip. She's already such a girly girl, getting all huffy when I don't let her pick out her own hair clip or shoes or dress. And now we're doing makeup too? I'm obviously putting next to nothing on her face, we both know it's just pretend, so why do I feel like I'm doing something WRONG?
Is it wrong? Or weird? Or inadvisable? I don't remember watching my own mother put makeup on (although I confess to, ah, "borrowing" some of it when I got older. Sorry Mom!) Sometimes I think I'm teaching her something by including her so fully in the process, but what? That makeup is required? That I think we need it? Am I encouraging vanity? ARE THE FEMINISTS GOING TO HUNT ME DOWN IN MY SLEEP?!
Honestly, it's just kind of FUN. She gets such a kick out of it, even though there's nothing ON her face! Just the feel of the brush on her cheeks, or getting to rub in her own minuscule dollop of moisturizer - she's obviously enjoying it. It feels like this just-us girly thing and I LIKE it. So there. Although the first relative to give my girl her own junior makeup kit for Christmas is going down. She's only allowed to wear zit cover up until she's twenty-five. GOT THAT?
Do your daughters copy your every bathroom mirror move?