Imperfectly Perfect Motherhood

To the mother who’s on her fourth straight day of a messy bun and half a can of dry shampoo, I see you.

To the mother wearing 62 tissues inside her bra trying to strategically stem the overflow so you can duck into a meeting, I see you.

To the mother crying in her car because you forgot the pacifier, again, and now have to turn around halfway to that play date you needed for your mental sanity, I see you.

To the mother who just stares longingly at her closet full of clothes that no longer fit, I see you.

To the mother waking up 3-4x a night to run downstairs and warm a bottle because try as you might your child never latched, I see you.

To the mother being asked repeatedly “don’t you feel guilty having other people raise your child?”, I see you.

To the mother who opens her car door and watches a bag of goldfish, a snack cup, one shoe, and 7 half eaten snack bars come tumbling out, I see you.

To the mother watching Tinkerbell for 112th time because it the only thing that will get your child to stop screaming for one minute, I see you.

To the mother who feels like she is doing it all wrong, I see you.

To the mother who feels like she wasn’t meant to be a mother, I see you.

It’s ok to eat the donut.  It’s ok to throw out the skinny jeans, or hell even light them on fire in a fit of rage! 

It’s ok to literally scream your lungs out when you have had enough.

It’s ok to pull on the side of the road and cry when your baby will not stop screaming the entire car ride.

It’s ok to not make every single one of your toddler’s meals from scratch.

It’s ok to ask for a minute alone.

It’s ok.  You are not alone. 

I see you , I am you, you are not alone.

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