Sometimes you don't realize you're living in a fog of motherhood until the haze clears a little. For me, clarity hit as I was looking in my closet, full of nursing tops and stretched-out jeans and all I could think is that before this, it housed my maternity wardrobe. Had it really been over a year since I'd worn something that wasn't designed to accommodate a baby being in or attached to me? I'm a stylist! This isn't something that should dawn on me! But there I was, experiencing either a case of the cobbler's shoes or worse, oof, feeling a sudden mourning of self that attacks every other mom. And I'm betting on the latter.

Those first few months of a baby's life are so completely engrossing-- keeping them fed, dry, and content is physically and mentally draining but add to that the moments you simply want to study them, learn each line on their tiny palms by heart, and almost all of your attention is spoken for. Add to that a three-year-old with whom I ALSO don't want to miss a moment, a few styling and writing projects I took, and my blog that I figured would keep a semblance of ME going. With all that I was trying to pack in, was it really a surprise that feeling sexy and flirty fell off the radar?