Inadequacy and Rambling

You all know THAT MOM. She pulls up to the school pick up line in her super, shiny, impeccably detailed SUV. Her nails are manicured. Her clothes free from stains, perfectly pressed. She chatters away on her iPhone, checking herself out in her rear view. Her car windows don't have peanut butter smeared on them. Her kids are perfectly coiffed, down to the matching monogrammed backpacks. Like Kardashians in the flesh.

I am not that mom. Even on my best day, I'm not even close.

But today, I definitely wasn't.

Picture it...

Greasy, three days unwashed ponytail.

Old blue jeans.

Wrinkled button up haphazardly tucked in.

Zit the size of Mount Everest that I can practically see in my peripheral vision.

Smelling faintly of baby vomit.

I don't normally wish to be anyone other than myself. But for those couple of seconds this afternoon, I wanted to be THAT MOM.

She doesn't have a puddle of dog pee in her foyer every morning. Her kids don't shove half eaten bowls of food under their beds. Her husband gives her foot rubs and hand delivers chocolate to her bedside when she's PMSing. Ha.

Who am I kidding.

I was judging. And I don't like to. I hate being judged on my appearance. HATE. So I imagine that THAT MOM wouldn't like it either. Maybe her life isn't as smooth and blemish free as it appears, ya know?

Either way I felt like I should just acknowledge it and move on.

So this is me acknowledging and accepting and moving on. Okay?