Tonight I needed a bath. I just needed a little bit of time away to soak in hot water and steam and silence. It wasn't long before tiny fists were knocking, double time and tiny hands were fumbling (unsuccessfully thank you JEE-SUS) with the bathroom door knob.
I'm such a sucker for my kid and his long lashes and sweet high-pitched voice so I decided to let him join me in the second half of my tub-time, envisioning a picturesque mother-son moment. Within seconds, he had 1.Tried to grab my BRAND NEW IPHONE and toss it into the bath 2.took his toy boat and in one swift motion scoop-splashed water all over the floor and 3. Peed. Like. Full on peed unabashedly into the water. In my panic I grabbed him and tried to aim him somewhere else but it was too late. I grumbled to Josh to get me his toothbrush and I, instead of relaxing, wrestled the equivalent of a 23 pound miniature (soapy) walrus down, brushed his teeth and somewhat washed his hair.
This is mom life sometimes.
Even after bath time, I figured I might salvage the night and somehow transform into a sultry vixen. But. I. Shit I didn't even shave my legs. I sent Josh to get me a diet coke instead.
I am now wearing stretchy pants. I am not only wearing stretchy pants, but stretchy pants that go up to my boobs. I mean they really do...go all the damn way up and under (so nice). I'm also not even wearing a sports bra (referred to in my household as "not a real bra") and a tank top. And I'm tired of feeling apologetic about it all.
You know, lately it feels like I'm inundated with self-love blogs, photos, shared Facebook stories and inspirational Instagram accounts. Anyone that knows me understands that I 100% agree with loving your self--whether it be plus size, fit, pregnant, post-pregnancy, breast feeding, tall short...whatever! I am a HUGE fan of the postpartum body movement and 4th Trimester project. Really. But where are the MOMS? I guess what I mean is...like me. Because I still look at these photos and think...I am such a wreck. How do I get there? HOW do I look good balancing my toddler on my hip while attempting to breast feed him upside down and cook chicken fajitas at the same time?
I hope everyone knows that what the Birth Without Fear and 4th Trimester Bodies does is incredible. I admire each woman and their story, pregnancy, birth and after. I just feel left out. I'm overly honest and my heart is permanently attached to my sleeve. I can't lie when I say that sometimes I gravitate more towards (and search out) moms who admit that motherhood is HARD sometimes.
I don't ever want anyone to think that I don't love being a mom. Or that I'm an uncontrollable slob (for those that haven't met me yet....heyyyyy). I do shower. I do put on mascara. I do other things besides just act as mom. But I also fully believe in being honest and banding together as friends and sharing the moments that aren't so awesome because it means we aren't alone. And sometimes it's hard NOT to feel alone, even when someone very small is very audibly screaming something nonsensical about boobs and ducks and dada and bye-bye in the background.
I just want to see some photos. Is that sick? Probably just a little bit. None of us want to have some asshole pop in and snap a photo as our rear is hanging fashionably out of the back of our yoga pants and we have lime yogurt smeared on our shirt and in our day-two-dry-shampooed-hair. None of us want to have someone catch us attempting to actually eat a fifth cookie secretly in the kitchen while leaving the vacuum running in the median just a little extra time because you KNOW your toddler won't walk past it and ask for another bite. No one wants to see that.
Except me.
I want to see it. I at least want to know that I'm not the only one. Because no matter what, I think you're super gorgeous and doing a damn good job. Even after you've had an involuntary pee bath.
Amen and goodnight.
