For the longest time, I wouldn't go anywhere — not even the grocery store — without makeup on and my hair done. I can clearly remember waking up every day at an ungodly hour during high school to start the tedious process of getting ready.

First, it was a shower, followed by drying my hair — which thanks to the length and how curly it was — took upwards of a half an hour.

Then I would pick out my clothes — usually going through numerous tops and bottoms before deciding on something — and then go back to the bathroom to put on my makeup. Sometimes I even had to do my makeup in the car because I would run out of time and risk being late to my first class.

This process of getting ready changed throughout the years for a variety of reasons, but two things didn't: how tiresome it was and how self-conscious I felt if I didn't complete the entire thing before leaving the house for any reason.

I'm not sure why I felt that I wasn't 'worthy' of being seen if my hair was messy or my face was bare, but I did. I felt like I always needed to look my best before going out of the house or else I had failed; as a person or a female, I don't know, but that's how I felt.

Now as the parent of a one-year-old and a two-year-old who are exactly one year and five days apart in age, I don't have the luxury of 'free time' very often. These days, even taking a shower alone without having two toddlers splashing around my feet is rare.

Most days, I haphazardly throw my hair up in a bun and the idea of even putting on foundation is laughable. I'm usually shocked if I remember to put on deodorant before I leave the house (...which is why I now keep a travel-sized one in the diaper bag, just in case).

But the most surprising part?

I don't care.

Yes, you read that right. I don't care. The girl who used to sacrifice sleep for beauty no longer cares.

When I have to run to Fry's because my one-year-old ran out of this miraculous homeopathic constipation medicine that is the ONLY thing that helps, I hurriedly pack the diaper bag, make sure my kids have clothes on, jump in the car and go. The million stray hairs falling out of my bun or the one too many blemishes on my face not hidden by concealer are the last thing on my mind.

When my two-year-old won't eat anything but a Mighty Kids Meal from McDonald's, you can bet your last dollar I'll be running out in a shirt covered in God knows what that my kids got on me during the day. It's also more than likely that on my feet are my tried and true slippers that have definitely seen better days.

The reason behind this seemingly miraculous change is simple; I don't care because my kids don't care.

They can't tell the difference between the mom who is wearing eyeliner and the one who isn't; the quality of their care doesn't depend on if I decided to do my hair that day or not. All they care about is serving me pretend pizza from their play kitchen, pretending to be 'Ky-loo' with their lightsabers, and making masterpieces with their washable markers. They aren't going to ask me why I have a few more gray hairs than normal or why my eyebrows are looking a little more bushy as of late.

What they WILL notice is if I suddenly decide to spend more time worrying about which color eyeshadow I should wear that day instead of trying to figure out how to alleviate my littlest one's teething pain.

Now, don't get me wrong — I'm not saying women shouldn't care about their appearance once they become mothers and I'm not judging those who do. When my husband is off work and we take the boys to the mall or get to have a date night once in a blue moon, I LOVE getting the chance to put on makeup and do my hair. But now I get a chance to appreciate it rather than find it laborious like I used to. Since I rarely get to do it, it's something nice that I get to do for me and not because I feel like I have to.

I'm not going to lie either; when I see moms who look like they just stepped out of a magazine, I definitely get a little envious. I always think maybe if I tried a little harder or made more of an effort, that could be me too.

But we never really know what goes on in someone else's life 100 percent of the time, do we? Maybe on the day I happened to see her, her husband surprised her and watched the kids so she got a chance to do her make-up and get her hair done.

If you find yourself comparing yourself to other moms like I do sometimes, just don't. Focus on what's important because I'm here to tell you that your priorities may change as you get older and that's OK.

I used to obsess over every little gray hair I found or every new wrinkle that seemed to pop up overnight. Now I see them as a way to honor growing older -- something that is sadly denied to many.

I don't always look put-together these days and I'm much more at peace with it than I thought I would ever be. I know there's going to come a time when my kids' drawings will evolve from the scribbles and doodles they are now and they draw me for the first time with my trusty ol' Mom bun and dark circles under my eyes. This thought might have filled me with dread a few years ago, probably right around the time I perfected my selfie.

But now, when my kids give me that drawing because they love me, I will treasure it more than words can describe.

I will gladly spend the rest of my days bare-faced and hair in a bun if it means I get to be a person they look up to.