Let's get one thing straight: toddlers do not have their sh*t together. They're like cats: wanting inside, then outside, then inside, then outside. They go out in public with no pants and one princess shoe. They fight going to sleep even though they're exhausted. They want crackers. No, pretzels. No, milk. Toddlers are a hot damn mess but, if we're being honest, they probably got it from their mama. As a mom, you'll likely experience lots of moments that make you realize you're a bigger hot mess than your toddler.
I always thought I was a relatively "put-together" person. I was handling it (you know, life) pretty well. I've always been really responsible. I was the one who called my siblings to remind them of important birthdays and anniversaries. I always responded to texts and emails, and in a fairly timely manner. I bathed regularly. Then I expelled a tiny person from my loins, and all that went out the window. All of a sudden, I became a disgusting person who has no idea what day of the week it is. Yesterday, I wiped my daughter's nose with my sleeve and my husband chimed in, "Is that how we do things now?" When I put her in sweats, he chirped, "Aw! She looks just like mommy!"
I've accepted the fact that I'm a bigger disaster than my toddler. The truth is, though: I just don't care. If you recognize yourself in the following list, you just might be a hot mess mom, too.
When You Do Something Really Stupid
I mean really stupid. Perhaps even stupid by toddler standards (and I'm talking about tiny people who think licking an electric socket might be a good idea). Did you know that if you deseed a jalapeño and then pick your nose, it will feel like Dante's Inferno inside your nasal cavity? I mean, not speaking from experience or anything.
When You Lose Something
Every time I get my toddler out of the car, I ask her, "Where the hell is your cup/dinosaur/hair tie/shoe?" She's strapped into a car seat, so where is she putting all that crap? But this is coming from the woman who couldn't find her cell phone because she was talking on it. So, you know, grain of salt.
When Your Outfit Screams IDGAF
I'm a trendsetter myself, so I like to push the limits of acceptable attire for dropping my kid off at school. I will do literally anything not to have to change clothes, so I am generally covered in a fine layer of cat hair, snot (mine? hers?), and bits of food.
The other day, I realized that my underwear was showing because my phone was weighing down my 14-year-old sweatpants. My toddler, on the other hand, looked like she'd just stepped out of a Gap Kids ad.
When You Eat Your Kid's Leftovers
I volunteered for a year at an orphanage in the third world, so I really hate to waste food. Plus, most of the time, I don't have the luxury of sitting down to enjoy a leisurely meal. So that means that my lunch usually consists of small bites of no longer warm grilled cheese and half-eaten slices of orange.
Once, I gave my daughter a string cheese before I hopped in the shower, in the hopes of keeping her busy. I later found some in my unmade bed. Did I eat it? Yes, yes I did.
When You Forget Everything
I've never in my life missed an appointment because I forgot. Until a few weeks ago, that is, when I totally spaced on my own doctor's appointment. The teacher in me does not like that I get a "no show" note in my record. Threatening me with my "permanent record" is basically how you can get me to do anything.
The last time I picked my daughter up from pre-school, her teacher and I had the following text conversation:
Me: Did I leave H's fox lovey in the classroom?
Me: And her snack cup?
Me: Good God! And her coat?
Teacher: You must be in vacation mode still.
Nope. Not vacation mode. Hot mess mom mode.
When You Cry Over Literally Nothing
The other day, my daughter turned into a weepy, snotty wreck because I told her she couldn't bite me. Another time, she threw an epic tantrum when we ran out of peanuts.
However, I'm not one to judge. I cry over commercials. I realize that crying over an imaginary lost puppy makes me the emotional equivalent of a 5-year-old child, but having all the feels all the time is part and parcel of motherhood.
When You're So Damn Tired
Oh my God. Why am I so f*cking tired all the time? For reals. There's not enough concealer in the world for the bags under my eyes (like I have time or energy to put it on anyway). But it's really starting to get in the way of, you know, functioning. The other morning, I actually drove 25 minutes in the wrong direction (like, really wrong, as in west instead of south) before I realized it.
When You Start Pairing Snacks With Wine
Toddlers will eat days-old veggie sticks off the floor, but you? You know they're best with a glass of chardonnay. I even raid my kid's snacks after she's gone to bed. If you've never tried goldfish crackers with a nice cabernet (and about five episodes of The Walking Dead), you're missing out.
When You Haven't Showered For Days
I read somewhere that it's not good for babies' skin to bathe them every day, which I basically interpret as a free pass not to draw a bath for my child if I can avoid it. I mean, I'm constantly wiping all the really dirty parts anyway.
The bad thing is, I've equated what's good for baby with what's good for mommy. I'm all about the every other day shower. If I'm not going anywhere, what's the point? Dry shampoo and the messy bun are a hot mess mom's best friends. If you can get past the name, a little whore's bath is also an excellent alternative.
There's Something Disgusting In Your House/Car/Diaper Bag/Hair/Whatever
When I was a nanny in college, I remember my employer asking me to clean out her car. I was so grossed out by the shriveled McDonald's french fries. Little did I know, that exact scenario awaited me.
Is there anything more disheartening than going to pick a leaf up off the floor and realizing it's actually poop or vomit? Or finding yesterday's half-eaten banana chunks in the bottom or your diaper bag? When I find granules of rice on my toddler, I just give silent thanks that they're not maggots.
It's gross, yes. But it's also a badge of honor. Wear it with pride, Hot Mess Mom.