Me, Mommy

Mom Notes

photo-1486704155675-e4c07f8ad160.jpegTo the mom rushing in late with wet hair, dragging quickly dressed kids and trailing muffin crumbs, you’re my kind of girl.

To the mom juggling a kid in each arm, an overstuffed backpack, a toy in her mouth and balancing a cup of coffee, I’ve been there, let’s talk. 

To the mom yelling across the soccer field as her kid runs to practice with only one shoe on while the other kid won’t stop hanging upside down from a tree, let’s be friends. 

To the mom who shoves toys aside and turns off the kitchen light to hide the crumbs when someone pops by, it’s cool. I do that too. 

To the mom standing alone at the school meeting, scoot on over by me. Well nibble our nails and get through it together. 

To the mom who thinks she’ll go insane if doesn’t get out of the house, but having to put on actual clothes and pack the kids up sounds even worse, it’s ok. There’s this thing, it’s called Peppa Pig. Use it in these emergency situations. 

To the mom trying to eat with a wiggly, clingy baby, hand that kid on over. You deserve a hot meal too. I’ve had snotty shirts before, I got this. 

To the mom with the kid throwing a fit. Girl, breathe. It will pass, we’ve all been there, do your thang and don’t let the mean looks get to you.  

To the mom up late Netflix binging and finishing housework as the family sleeps, text me. We’ll have a chat about something other than boogers and who had a toy first as we fold undies and sneak rocky road.  

To the mom crying in the kitchen because being a mom is the hardest thing on the planet and you’re overanalyzing everything. Wipe those tears, turn on some music and let the mom moves fly, because you’re doing just fine. 

To the mom who feels like all the other moms have it together and you’ll never measure up. It’s not real. There is no perfect, so own your reality and keep on swimming.  

To the mom reading this and thinking she’s alone, I promise you’re not alone. We all have the same thoughts, fears, insecurities. We just don’t share them enough.

You know I’m right… 

… so let’s make a deal. No more judging. No more comparing and shaming and unrealistic expectations. Ok?

Come to my house, even when it’s a mess. Meet me for coffee, even if we’re both wearing yesterday’s clothes and dark circles. Love me when my kids are acting wild and I’ll do the same for you. Share your worries, even if you think they’re silly. I betcha dollars to diapers I’ve got the exact same ones. 

Let’s hug the moms with crazy hair, an outfit accessorized with spit up, and two different shoes on. Let’s compliment the mom wearing actual grown-up clothes and makeup. Even if you hate her a little, we all get it together sometimes and need to feel special

Let’s get together more and be real more. Let’s talk actual hard truths and love each other the same. Let’s not hide the ugly stuff and exhaust ourselves for appearances.  Let’s dig into the heavy layers of being the one that keeps the family going and how much weight that is to wear each day. 

Let’s do this together, the real way. Let’s be little love letters, to moms from moms. Little mom notes full of real inspiration, real love, real understanding… because really, who has time for all that other stuff? 


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