You know what I can’t wrap my mind around? Those really put-together moms. The super chic and awake ones. You know who I’m talking about. I don’t get it. I see some moms at the park, or at pickup, and on Instagram and I’m just like, Kristen—what time did you get up this morning? Like, really. WHAT TIME?! During which hours of this day were you able to blow dry and wand your hair and contour your face like that? Because, over here at my house, I barely have enough time and energy to crotch-sniff-test my leggings and throw my hair in that George Washington low ponytail I’m always rocking.
And the trendy outfits that looks so effortless but still really cool—how do you do it? Don’t get me wrong, I can buck up once or twice a month for special occasions, but I usually look like I over-snoozed my alarm and didn’t have time to put on real clothes. I tell myself all the time to just put on some jeans and the cute button up top that still hasn’t been worn, but then I remember that the jeans are tight and stiff and thick, and the buttons sometimes feel cold on my skin and just like that I am back in my black Zellas and my grey “Maybe Later” sweatshirt.
I did try to wear lipstick last month, thinking that might be a quick, cheap, self-esteem booster, but it instantly catapulted me into Granny status when I saw the dark red lip marks on my coffee cup. Plus I looked like a half-assed hooker. No thanks.
And ya know what my therapist would say about this? She would tell me that just because one mom looks poised and presentable and I look like a dirty gym sock it doesn’t make me “less than”. But I’m gunna call bullshit on that—because I think I am less than a lot of things in this scenario. I am less awake, less ready for a photo shoot, and less likely to be whistled at when I’m walking across the street to drop-off in my slippers.
My mom told me that when my brothers and I were little, she would spend the entire winter wearing the same red sweatpants. There was no social media, no trendy mom meetups, and in her words, “a lot less pressure.” She said she would drop off and pickup every day in the ratty, under-washed, smelled-like-syrup, red sweatpants. And she said that she didn’t think much of it, because all her friends were kind of doing the same. I wanna live in those days.
Do you think I’m hot-mom shaming? I really don’t mean to be. I’m in awe of you bitches. And I know we all have to stick together. Maybe we all have Mom superpowers and looking cute and hot is yours. I guess mine would be dressing my family for theme parties or making the most of frozen dinners. And you are probably thinking, who cares what people wear to pick up or how their hair looks? RIGHT?! I know. I’m fucking working on it.
And who knows, maybe over-the-knee boot mom is actually a fuckshow just like me. Maybe we are both fighting our own inner crazy and trying desperately, every day, to be the best kind of mom that we can be on any given day. I’m just saying I think life would feel a lot easier and more comfortable if we all threw out the hair wands and brought back the red sweatpants.