It’s that special time of year. Hallmark celebrates us with greeting cards with floral designs and cheesy rhymes. Restaurants celebrate us with over priced prix fixe brunches. But, if we are really lucky we are celebrated by our adoring family and showered with macaroni necklaces, homemade almost inedible breakfast in bed and flowers purchased last minute by husbands who forgot that Mother’s Day was in May.
You may be able to spot us by our appearance. We are the women whose hair is most likely a little disheveled and greasy. We either a) have not had the time to shower or style our hair. or b) had time to shower, but just before the conditioner was washed out of our hair someone yells “mommmmmmmmmmmmmmy” resulting in weighed down, flat hair until our next glorious 4 minutes of freedom shower. Or maybe our clothes are the dead giveaway: slightly wrinkled, possibly stained and definitely not something that would have ever walked the runway. Please, don’t judge us. Maybe, pre-children we were once glamorous and trendy. Post children, we will hands down pick the comfort of yoga pants over the stylish look of skinny jeans any day.
We are the women who carry purses the size of small suitcases. Not by choice or for a fashion statement, but rather by necessity. Because for a mom the basics are not an option. We are the ones whose purses are as well stocked as Walgreens. Yes, carrying a clutch would be glorious, but it sure as hell wouldn’t hold a sippy cup, granola bar, hand sanitizer, tissues, 4 broken crayons, a GI Joe, hair ties, band aids and a McDonalds Happy Meal Toy.
We are the women at the grocery store who looks like they have lost their minds. We hop/skip/sing/dance through the aisles like a court jester, doing anything to distract our children from the millions of items they are trying to grab. We race through the store trying quickly gather a few healthy ingredients and avoid the snack and toy aisle at all costs. You may think we are rude because of our quick pace, annoyance at the the long deli counter line and avoidance of friendly small talk. It is not that we are rude, it’s that we know that shopping with a child is like carrying a ticking time bomb. We just want to get out before it goes off.
We are the women you see at Starbuck’s/Dunkin Donuts/Coffee Plantation eagerly awaiting our “fix”. Somedays we may look as desperate for our Grande Skinny Vanilla Latte as the junkie downtown on the corner trying to score some drugs. Trust me, we need it. It could have been a bad dream that resulted in an all night rocking chair session or waking up at 3:00am remembering that you need to bake 4 dozen cookies for the bake sale the next day. Whatever it was, on any given day, we are are moms and therefore are exhausted.
We are the women with that strange mixture of joy/exhaustion/worry/amazement/stress. We are the women who grew a human being inside of our bodies, gave birth and now have to figure out how the hell to turn these mini-mes into functioning beings. We are happy. We are sad. We are hysterical. We are calm. We are competent. We are scared. We are MOMS and this is OUR day. So say thank you, give us a hug, tell us how beautiful we are and pour us a nice big glass of wine.