I have to admit it, I’ve become a bit of a frump since the birth of my daughter six months ago. I didn’t mean to. It’s not as if I enjoy it.

But I’ve discovered what countless mothers before me already knew. Children conspire against their mothers when it comes to dressing fashionably. Or, setting aside that lofty aspiration, even being clean.

I realized this as I was flipping through the hangers in my closet the other day, visiting my old clothes. When I first got pregnant, I was giddy with excitement at the prospect of a new baby and couldn’t wait to wear my maternity clothes. My old clothes, I thought, I would be wearing again in little more than a year. Little did I know.

I’m not talking about weight. I have regained my old pre-baby figure (well, almost). I can wear my favorite jeans again. But now that the thrill of that victory has passed, I’m ready to move on to other items. My short flirty sun dress. A white linen top. Maybe even go shopping for some new things.

That’s when I realized that the conspiracy theory my friend recently presented to me was true. You cannot have kids and dress well too.

Let me amend that. You can dress well, but maintaining your well-groomed look will be a challenge as great as any you have faced before. Think spit-up and sticky handprints. My friend even went so far as to suggest that this was the real reason for the shift to corporate casual. I pooh-poohed her doom and gloom revelation at first, thinking in a naïve first mom sort of way that I could do it. It would just take some effort and planning.

Taking a trip through my closet though, my confidence began to waver.

Since I am breastfeeding, I have to rule out any clothing item that does not allow me easy access to the food source or any item that is not going to wear well in the process. That means blouses with buttons come out ahead of pullovers and my pretty silks get to hang in the closet a bit longer.

Other fabrics can be problematic as well. I discovered this the hard way when I wore a black chenille sweater at Christmas. My infant daughter’s clammy little hands and damp face ended up covered with a fine black lint. Saw some suspicious flecks in the diaper the next day too.

My short skirts may fit again, but I have to think twice before I wear them these days. Wearing a short skirt while heaving a 20 pound baby in and out of a car seat might earn me a ticket for indecent exposure. Even a long skirt can be problematic. I discovered this when my daughter, seated in her car seat on the floor, grabbed hold of the bottom of my skirt and began to merrily tug it this way and that and ultimately stuck it in her mouth along with her thumb. My friend told me a funny story about a wrap skirt and a game of hide and seek. I guess my skirts will keep my silk blouses company.

Having thus narrowed my wardrobe in the above ways, I am left with jeans and t-shirts and a few cotton shirts. I try to snazz these items up with my funky sandals but sometimes I long for something with a bit more style.

Ignoring that little inner voice that warned me otherwise, I decided that I COULD be different. I could wear more stylish clothes and have a baby. So off I went to the mall.

I sighed at my reflection in the fitting room mirror. My new capri pants and linen top looked oh so chic and hip. I wore them proudly as I pushed my daughter’s stroller down the street and felt as if I had somehow beaten the odds.

Until my daughter managed to spray my new white blouse with pureed peas, that is. It wasn’t quite a scene from “The Exorcist” but it drove home an important lesson to me. The influx of maternal hormones don’t rob moms of their fashion sense. Babies do.