11 Questions I Have For Every Mom Who Magically Has Her Sh*t Together
I see her everywhere. In fact, we've all seen her. She's the mom showing up five minutes early to daycare pickup in her perfect suit, fresh from work. She's the mom with her hair perfectly done and her clothes perfectly pressed. She's the mom with the set schedule who always plans and always prepares and never forgets a single, solitary thing. She's definitely not me. I have some questions for every mom who magically has her sh*t together because, while I see her everywhere, I'm so very far removed from her. I've never been one to be on time or not forget that very special toy my kid just can't seem to live without. I can barely plan dinner let alone an extravagant party or a slew of extracurricular activities. So I need some answers.
I know that it's easy to look at someone I don't know and, on the surface, assume she has this effortless, pain-free, and easy-going life. It's especially easy when you're a hot mess like me, and you can't muster up enough energy to even pretend things aren't two seconds away from hitting the proverbial fan on an embarrassingly frequent basis. I can tell myself that, realistically, we're all doing our best and making mistakes and struggling. However, when I have a day that seems harder than most and my self-doubt takes over, reason goes straight in the garbage (along with the dinner I accidentally burnt. Again.).
Which is why I'd love to stop that mom at the playground with all the homemade snacks and the extra wipes she so-lovingly hands out to unprepared mothers like me, and ask her how in the hell she does it. After all, if we really are "all in this together," then I think sharing some hard-earned knowledge is the least the moms who have their sh*t together, can do.
"When Do You Find The Time To Blow Dry? No, Seriously."
Do you have some sort of portable hairdryer you use during your commute? Have you mastered the art of driving while drying? Or are you blowdrying your hair while simultaneously sleeping? I mean, honestly, who in the hell has the time to blow dry and curl and/or straighten or do whatever it is you seem to find the time to do to your luscious, perfect head of hair?
Let me just put a little more space between you and the messy bun I have on top of my haven't-showered-in-four-days head. It's better for my self-esteem if we don't stand too close to one another.
"How Long Did It Take To Set Up, Take, Edit, And Post That Photo?"
There's no way that picture was just "randomly" taken. No. Freakin'. Way.
Did you bribe your kid with a toy or a treat? Is there some kind of filter that erases tantrums and tears so every picture you take of your child is perfect? Did you pay for that filter on some over-priced app because, at this point, I would fork over a ridiculous amount of money to have my kid take at least one decent picture.
"Who Did You Sell Your Soul To?"
The parenting gods? Your pediatrician? Satan? Help me out here, fellow mom. You made some deal with the devil, didn't you? A lifetime of easy-going parenting if you spend eternity in the seventh circle of hell (which, we all know, is a non-stop toddler tantrum you're powerless to stop)?
"Did You Drink A Magic Potion That Helps You Live On Zero Sleep?"
I am dying here, and you're running PTA meetings and you're the first one to show up at soccer practice and you're doing yoga in the mornings before your kid even wakes up. This isn't normal. Like, your body needs to actually rest and I'm pretty positive you're doing none of that. Do you have an extra DNA strand the scientific community has yet to discover?
"Are You Even Real?"
No, but really. Like, are you an actual human being or are you a figment of my imagination, brought on by exhaustion and fatigue? At this point, I'm sure it could go either way.
"How Many People Do You Pay To Help You?"
Yes, this is me at my most judgmental. I shouldn't assume you have paid helpers just because you're put together and doing all of the things and seemingly happy while doing them. Women are amazing and, clearly, so are you. I'm sure you don't have a staff of cooks and nannies and whoever else you'd need to keep your house clean and healthy food on the table and your children all happy and stuff and things.
But, I mean, you do have help, right? (Again, so sorry.)
"Did You Take A 'Mom Class' And, If So, Do They Have Any Openings?"
Did I miss some important class in college? Wait, was there an additional birthing class that helps you figure things out once you pop your kid out? I've read all the baby books and online forums and I've asked parents so many questions but there's still a disconnect between what I know and what I should know (apparently). You took some advanced class, didn't you? Spill the beans, lady. Oh, and save me a seat.
"Why Are You Doing This Mom Thing Better Than I Am?"
It at least looks like we're doing all of the same things. I mean, you're working and I'm working. You have a toddler and I have a toddler. You have a partner and I have a partner. So, why in the hell do you seem to be doing this mom thing so effortlessly, and I'm late to work everyday with my shirt on inside out and a stain on my pants and an upset toddler at home, screaming and crying and throwing another fit because mom has to leave?
We're not all that different, right? (Don't answer that.)
"Can You Teach Me Your Ways? Please?"
I'll take notes and I won't interrupt and I'll always get to class on time and I'll be the best damn student you've ever seen.
"Will You Be My Best Friend?"
Please? I promise I won't judge you and I'll always stick up for you and I'll be your go-to babysitter when you're in a bind. I bet our kids will love one another and we can set up playdates and, I'm telling you, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
"Have You Ever Made A Single Mistake In Your Entire Life?"
Alright, alright. Yes, I already know the answer to this question so it's more rhetorical than anything else. After all, if Beyoncé makes mistakes we all do.
However, sometimes I just need to feel like we're "in this together," you know? It's not that I revel in someone else's misery, because I don't. I promise. It's just that knowing I'm not the only one messing up on a regular basis gives me a much-needed feeling of community and support. So, if you could please tell me (in great detail, mind you) about your latest mishap, I will love you forever and consider you the Beyoncé of my life.