I’m sitting here in Starbucks, crying.
I’m a hot mess. You guys, this is real life.
I’ve become that mom.
My life isn’t that hard, and it’s certainly not that complicated. And I only have one kid. So, truly, it shouldn’t be THAT hard to keep it all together, right?
Charlotte does competitive dance for a living (I’m sort of kidding, she’s a second grader, it’s not a job). She loves it, which is why we do it. She dances at the studio several nights a week and, lately, weekends as well. With our insanely busy schedules it’s sometimes impossible for me to stay at the studio while she dances, so I don’t. There is always, always, always somewhere else I also need to be.
I used to stay at the studio ready to record dance routines, there to check on my kid. But that’s not my life anymore. And I feel really, really crappy about it.
I’ve become the mom who relies on other parents to send me videos when my kid, ONCE AGAIN, forgets to bring her phone in to record. I’ve become the parent who doesn’t know exactly what’s going on unless I’m told (because communication is often shared through word of mouth). I’ve become that mom.
I often feel judged by the other moms, which is entirely in my head. I think it’s because I am judging myself.
I really wished I could be the mom who stores a secret cape in her closet. The mom who gets up every morning and makes her kids breakfast. The mom who shows up to every classroom party and who stays at dance, helps other moms, reads to her kid every night, showers on a regular basis. I’m not any of those things.
I’m the mom who struggles to keep it all together, who uses dry shampoo to get me through the week, whose house is a complete disaster, who *never* bothers to fold laundry. I’m the take out mom, the “let’s make bedtime quick” mom, the serve yourself cereal in the morning mom. I’m a shitty mom. I get that.
Maybe I’ll be less of a shitty mom tomorrow. We’ll see.