I'm not her
I hadn't realized what kind of mother and wife I was until now. No, that's not right. I always knew what kind of mom and wife I am. I'm a hard worker with a job outside of the home. I am a mother of two, almost three, children that are respectful, loving, and just good. I am the wife of a hard working man who I've known since I was 14. I am married to a man who knows me...all of me...that I'm not a cleaner or a cook or anything like that. He knows we do all things together. All things.
Together. We're good. I'm good.
Until I see her. Her. You know who I'm talking about right? Her. HER!
We're all great friends with her. She shows up with her Pinterest-worthy meals and DIY projects. She meal preps. Her home is impeccable. She eats awesome food at the newest "it" places. She has time for everything. She looks flawless. All. The. Time. Her husband smiles and waves when instructed. Her children bounce beautifully on beds. No tantrums. No talking back. Just perfection. She has her shit together. She's either a SAHM or, like me, works out of the home, but she's always on. ON.
Well that's what's shown anyway. To us. The normal ones that don't always have their shit together. The ones that can't even 80% of the time. We drown ourselves in caffeine and go, go, go. Trying our hardest to get it together and show the world we can. Just like her. But we fall short because there is no way we can be her.
She's not real. We are. I am.
Okay, she's real. There's photos to prove it. She probably does have everything where it's supposed to be. And that's all good. Really, I'm good with her. Let her have it all or the notion of it all.
I'm good.
I'm okay with being on maternity leave right now, eating through a bag of Doritos, watching Scandal episodes back to back on Netflix. I'm perfectly okay with how very imperfect I am. I'm on a break right now. I've been given four weeks before Annika gets here to rest...and I'm taking full advantage of it. I get that guilty feeling every so often when I see her. But, then it passes because who cares what she's doing. Who cares?! She's doing her and I'm definitely happily doing me.
Soon, I'll have an itty bitty baby girl to take care of, to share with my beautiful older children, and with my loving and loyal husband. Later, I'll have to go back to work and leave this "break" behind. I'll see her around social media doing her thing....and I'll smile.
I'm not her. Not by a long shot....and I am so good with that. Until I'm not. You know what I'll do when I don't feel enough, though? I'll look at myself, straight to my core, in that dirty mirror, and tell myself:
Hey you! You're not her. You never have been or will be. He doesn't care. He loves you. You are doing you and you do it well. Keep it going. Don't stop.
You.Aren't.Her.
You are YOU.
And that's just fricken awesome.
Together. We're good. I'm good.
Until I see her. Her. You know who I'm talking about right? Her. HER!
We're all great friends with her. She shows up with her Pinterest-worthy meals and DIY projects. She meal preps. Her home is impeccable. She eats awesome food at the newest "it" places. She has time for everything. She looks flawless. All. The. Time. Her husband smiles and waves when instructed. Her children bounce beautifully on beds. No tantrums. No talking back. Just perfection. She has her shit together. She's either a SAHM or, like me, works out of the home, but she's always on. ON.
Well that's what's shown anyway. To us. The normal ones that don't always have their shit together. The ones that can't even 80% of the time. We drown ourselves in caffeine and go, go, go. Trying our hardest to get it together and show the world we can. Just like her. But we fall short because there is no way we can be her.
She's not real. We are. I am.
Okay, she's real. There's photos to prove it. She probably does have everything where it's supposed to be. And that's all good. Really, I'm good with her. Let her have it all or the notion of it all.
I'm good.
I'm okay with being on maternity leave right now, eating through a bag of Doritos, watching Scandal episodes back to back on Netflix. I'm perfectly okay with how very imperfect I am. I'm on a break right now. I've been given four weeks before Annika gets here to rest...and I'm taking full advantage of it. I get that guilty feeling every so often when I see her. But, then it passes because who cares what she's doing. Who cares?! She's doing her and I'm definitely happily doing me.
Soon, I'll have an itty bitty baby girl to take care of, to share with my beautiful older children, and with my loving and loyal husband. Later, I'll have to go back to work and leave this "break" behind. I'll see her around social media doing her thing....and I'll smile.
I'm not her. Not by a long shot....and I am so good with that. Until I'm not. You know what I'll do when I don't feel enough, though? I'll look at myself, straight to my core, in that dirty mirror, and tell myself:
Hey you! You're not her. You never have been or will be. He doesn't care. He loves you. You are doing you and you do it well. Keep it going. Don't stop.
You.Aren't.Her.
You are YOU.
And that's just fricken awesome.
