When You're the Hottest Mess in the Room

1:56 PM

This post wont relate to some mothers at all. Some women are born to have their shit together. They dont even really try, it just comes naturally to them. They're made to juggle, to prioritize, to manage the millions of things they must have going on in their lives...if you're this mother then these words will not resonate with you. Also, if you're this mother can you please send me an email telling me how the eff you do it? Because this post is for a different kind of mother. A mother like me, who is either sweating, crying, or losing her shit during most hours of the day...

I didnt realize I was the hottest mess in the room until one day when I really tried not to be. Like, I got up, showered, washed my hair...ok I dry shampooed my hair. I picked out my most favorite favorite clothes, the ones that dont have to be safety pinned, rigged, or strategically worn to hide the stains. I brushed my kids hair, packed him healthy snacks, and repeated to him at least 4 or 5 times that farting in public is not cool. We were ready. Library story hour, here we come...

But you know that saying? Something like...You can take the girl out of the city, but you cant take the city out of the girl...well...it applies to hot messes too. You can dress her up, put deodorant on her, and do everything you can to mask the mess...but you cant take the hot mess out of the girl.

Suddenly, Im sitting in the library, surrounded by children. Surrounded by mothers. All of us fighting our own struggles. All of us tired. All of us slightly lonely. All of us forced to be in a library play room on a Wednesday morning where someones kid just took a huge shit...ok where my kid just took a huge shit. And that's when it hit me. OMFG Im the hottest mess in this room! Everyone here is in the same boat Im in, yet somehow her hair is brushed, her shirt is ironed, that one over there, she's in work out clothes. She didn't even try and she smells better than me. Is that kid eating...is that bok choy? Is that 3 year old reading To Kill a Mockingbird? And here I am. Covered in a spilled strawberry squeeze pouch. My dry shampooed hair clearly needed to be real shampooed because it is sticking to my sweaty face right now and does not. smell. good. Is it hot in here? My toe...my toe is bleeding? WTF happened to my toe? And there's my equally as hot of a mess kid. Showing a circle of children his new trick...spitting on the floor.

And it was right then I had to make a decision. I could be really bummed about myself. I could think about what a failure I feel like because I cant ever seem to get it together. I can have a pity party. I can buy more clothes, get more beauty treatments, do my hair more to try and be someone Im clearly not....or. I can just say fuck it. I can just be ok with who I am as a mother and a human being. I can try to come to grips with the fact that I don't have the trendiest style, the cleanest hair, or the most well behaved kid. So, that's what I did. I just...embraced the glorious mess that I am. Im trying my best. Im doing my best. And honestly, I probably made some other borderline hot mess mom really happy that day because when she was about to feel really bad about herself she saw me and thought..."at least I washed my hair..."

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