Her

I failed at my daily blog challenge and lately, it kind of feels as though that's not all I'm failing at. Being a mother and a wife it feels as though there is a continual juggle of time and energy. I hear so much "wisdom" from strangers and those older than me.  "Enjoy each moment." " Savor every second." Then there's this whole "movement" saying you shouldn't say "hurry up" to your kids.  

Well, to that I say, Fail. Fail. And Epic Fail.   

Yesterday was a particularly exhausting day.  The day prior Dan had gotten up before the kids and worked late.  Days like that seem to blur together, with no real help in between.  As I was starting the daddy's-coming-home-soon countdown, I got the call.  

"Hey, Babe." (I know what those words usually mean.)  I sighed and he finished.  "I'll be a little late tonight."  

I didn't really hear the rest. My stomach fell to my feet and I realized I was on my own.  So I packed up my cranky kids and headed to Target.  We needed more ibuprofen for my teething girl and something for dinner.  My hair was in a attempted pony tail.  Instead it appeared a wild messs ticking out in every which way.  My makeup worn off from a day of music class, wrangling kids and outside play.  My shirt was stretched and dirty from sticky hands and snotty faces.  My non-pedicured feet mocked me from my flip flops.  Hudson walked beside me as I pushed Charli in the cart.  We stopped first for the meds for C.  Then headed to the food to pick out some dinner.  As we reached the cereal aisle Hudson declared he wanted cereal for dinner.  We stood in the aisle waiting for him to make his selection.  In a weary mom voice I proclaimed, "pick whatever you want." And so he eyed every sugary cereal, choosing carefully.  He finally settled on a box of Lucky Charms with a Halloween scene.  

I felt eyes watching and looked up to see her.  It was a well-dressed blonde woman about my age in a black suit.  Shiny high heels and perfectly pressed white blouse.  Her hair laid sleek down her back without a hair out of place.  I felt myself sinking with embarrassment.  I peered down to see my daughter drooling and chewing on the ibuprofen box as my son proudly came to me with a box of sugary cereal.  Yep.  Mother of the year material.  

I envisioned her coming home from her high-paying, high-respect job to a maticulously organized house, clean floors and fingerprint free glass to her perfectly dressed, clean children with their perfect manners.  I sighed to myself, forced a polite smile and went on our way.  

As I turned the corner I heard the blood curdling scream of a baby not getting her way.   Screams filled the air as he baby kicked and attempted to escape the cart. At the same time, a toddler in the larger area of the cart was trying to make a run for it, body thrown half way over roaring and yelling.  

Then, I saw her.  Our sympathetic eyes met and I realized I had met my match.  Her curls had fallen after a long day and her eye makeup was smeared below her eyes.  Her shirt was half untucked and her pants wrinkled.  She wore sensible heels and like me, forced a smile.  

Vanished were my dreams of walking away from these crazy kids and back to a world of pressed suits and expensive briefcases.  There's no way I could go back to that.  Even if I did go back to work, I'd be just like this weary mom I saw, just as tired, just as frustrated, just as frazzled.  My kids are my everything and so these bags under my eyes and messy hair sometimes just come with the job.  

As my Clarence melted down simultaneously in the checkout and I hurried to escape I saw the well-dressed woman again and this time gave a genuine smile.  I realized that she too, in some odd way may envy me.  

With a renewed perspective and a grande nonfat salted Carmel mocha, my babies and I went on our way. 

Thank you, God, for my sweethearts, for the wrinkles on my skin and the love in my heart.  My world will never be the same.  

Here's to morning cuddles, afternoon snacks on the porch and impromptu football games.  

Oh and Starbucks! 😊