I’m pretty sure post number one is destined to be as painful to relive as the pilot episode of most sitcoms, but you have to start somewhere. Unfortunately, I don’t always start things super well. My first day of high school I unfortunately performed a technically impressive slide through a muddy patch during lunch break. I had the opportunity for some really great “feedback” from my peers as my acrobatics occurred in front of gobs of students waiting in line for their food.
In the interest of full-disclosure (shameless honesty being a personality fault of mine- ask my husband), I fell down several more times in front of increasingly large crowds as high school wore on. When I was a senior, I was a drum-major for our high school marching band (which is something else I should probably keep to myself now that I think about it). This position led to the unfortunate combination of me, plus running, plus stadiums full of people…plus I had on white spandex pants.
Please pause to gather a mental image of that.
Always after the falls, I had the privilege of ascending large podiums and turning my back to the throngs of people to conduct the highlights from the soundtrack of the movie Hook. This allowed the entirety of the mud-laden white spandex to have center stage. Sigh.
Thankfully, that awkwardness is part of my past and I pretty much rock everything I attempt these days.
Anyone who has been a mom for 3 minutes knows that we don’t actually know what we’re doing. Some days are fantastical, some are regular, and some of them you’re overwhelmed and tearing up before 8 am. Don’t lie. It’s true.
Sometimes you feel like this:
And sometimes they look like this:
But you know what? We are okay. Only one of us can be the best mom (and by the way, I don’t think it’s any of you. You have no business being on the computer enjoying a blog at a time like this. You should be reading your child a book or preparing them a probiotic breakfast or something). On the other hand, if you have not misplaced your offspring permanently at Walmart and they still walk around your house, destroying it a little each day, you’re not the worst mom either. Take (a reasonable amount of) heart. The rest of us are the okayest moms.
Hey now! My youngest is crawling toward an open flame at the moment so I’m going to head over there and squash that action.
First post done. Whew.