My husband went to work the other day with glitter on his face. Unintentionally, of course. It was probably the shiny residue of some art project I had been doing with the kids that somehow made it onto his face via a few grubby little hands we all know and love. He was walking through the hall in the hospital he works at when the respiratory therapist passed by and said, “Is that glitter on your face?”

“You're seeing things,” my husband replied.

“Not really,” she countered. “Is this your attempt at a makeover? Because if so, you might want to try the professional makeup counter at Macy's. They do a stunning job and can really highlight all your best features.”

I can only imagine how quickly my husband must have darted into the nearest bathroom for a full scrubdown. Oh well. This certainly wouldn't be the first time our children have done something embarrassing to him that managed to leave its mark publicly.

When Nino was a baby, Danny was playing with him by letting Nino press a suction toy on his forehead and then pulling it off. It made a great sound. Slurrrrrp. Pop! Nino thought this was hilarious. It was also hilarious when Danny found out later that this activity had left him with a perfectly round hickey in the middle of his forehead, which didn't fade for half a week.

I have spent many days running around town only to find out halfway through the afternoon that I have an enormous wad of Play Doh stuck to my rear end that no one told me about. When I asked Nino (my five-year-old) why he didn't tell me, he said, “But, I thought you wanted it there!”

Oh yes. I most certainly wanted a brown turd-shaped piece of Play Doh hanging from my butt. Isn't that how every mom dresses up a bland outfit?

In so many ways, having a baby gives your whole life a makeover. I used to be very vain and wouldn't leave the house without perfect hair, high heels, painted nails and a great outfit. Now I am lucky if I leave the house without random objects hanging from my sweat suit covered rear end. A friend of mine recently told me that one time she made it through half the day without realizing that she had a small bath toy nested in her hair. That made me laugh and made me feel better, too.

But on a more serious note, having a child in your life really does change everything. The baby makeover is no joke. There are, of course, obvious things like changes to your appearance. But there are also emotional, psychological and spiritual ramifications, as well.

The thing that surprised me the most is how things that used to be important to me seem so trivial now. It's not just the fact that I no longer look fabulous every time I leave the house; it's the fact that I just really don't care that much anymore. I mean, sure, I like to look great, but when given the choice between getting a weekly manicure and buying my kids new fall clothes, the answer is crystal clear.

What my children have given me—that no other previous experience in my life was capable of offering—is perspective. Raising a child is so meaningful that you simply cannot understand its gravity until it has made a personal impact on your life. Before I was a mom, all the things that people said about motherhood sounded like one big gooey cliché. It will change your life. You have never lived until you have been a mother. You can't imagine how much you will love your baby. Bla, bla, bla …

But now, those same words speak to me, in real substantial ways. Sure, they are still clichés, but only because we hear them so often. And clichés are clichés because they typically express a valid ultimate truth.

I still don't like clichés very much. I like to learn my lessons on my own. And I hope when I talk about motherhood to my non-mommy friends that I don't sound like one of those namby pamby motherhood gift books with sickeningly sweet photos and captions that say things like, “Precious!” and “Bliss!” But deep inside, I secretly have those same hackneyed thoughts about my own little darlings. “Precious!” I think to myself when I check on my sleeping toddler during his nap. And as I cuddle into my boys' soft flesh, close my eyes, and drift off to sleep, covered still in random Play Doh bits and suction cup hickeys, I can't help but think, “This is definitely bliss.”