...that awkward mom.
The one you never really know how to respond to. The one who blurts out something random and your only response is to slightly grin while you look away in hopes she'll leave you alone. Yup. That's me. I've crossed over.
It's like I hear these words leaving my mouth while simultaneously wanting to slap myself to make me shut up.
I wasn't always this way ya know. Oh no. I was quasi cool. Funny. Some might even venture to say skinny. I had a few things going for me. One being that I could blend if I wanted to, but I could also stand out. In a way that made people laugh with me, not snicker as I walk away.
What's wrong with me? They more than likely didn't even notice that I'm still in my sweatpants because I woke up late and threw everyone in the truck to get my oldest to school on time. They didn't notice, but I brought it to their attention because that's what Awkward Mom does. She tells you why she looks like she bathed in baby food and used cooking oil.
At this point it doesn't really matter. My daughter is only four and doesn't realize how inconceivably gauche her poor mother is.
Don't get me wrong. I love my life. I'm incredibly blessed in a number of areas. It's just that I have very recently had this...er....epiphany of sorts. And I do have an elite few friends who see how blisteringly hilarious I truly am. And I can look decent when given sufficient time to camouflage the effects of birthing three perfect human beings (you're welcome America.) I have a husband who, is either the world's greatest liar, or truly believes he is married to the hottest giant of a woman alive today. So, with that being said...
I would LOVE to be one of those fashionable moms who all the other moms wistfully stare at and daydream of being. (Or maybe I'm the only one who does that.)
But I'm not. Fashionable, that is.
I'm a mousy brown haired, slightly overweight, don't always get to brush my teeth before noon, mother of three.
You wouldn't notice me in a crowd, that is until I make everyone feel weird with my sloppy attempt at witty banter.
The ONLY reason I'm writing this for anyone to see, is that I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. Blended. So in these moments when I want to be noticed for something other than a greasy ponytail, I have to remember: I'm not alone.
What I am, is privileged. Privileged to get to see every growing moment of my children's lives. To have the memories that some moms don't get to make do to uncontrollable circumstances in their lives. I may only be in three of the pictures that get taken in the next twenty years, but we'll all know I was there when we look at them in thirty.
Alright. It's late. I'm gonna go blend into my pillow.
