There are so many things I wonder about put-together moms, there are also SO many things I assume. For example, I assume they planned their pregnancy and have known since they were six how many kids they were going to have, down to the gender and color of hair. I assume they don’t work – but if they do, that they are very good at their jobs. I assume they have some sort of hired help and if they don’t, that they abandon their children for hours to get ready – and don’t feel an ounce of guilt for doing so. I assume they don’t really have a budget. I assume their kids only eat organic and are forbidden sugar. I assume they drink wine but only socially. I assume they judge me for my lack of clean hair, under eye-bags and poor posture. I assume they live in perfect houses and drive perfect, always-clean cars. I assume their tupperware game is unmatched. I assume their hobbies are baking, knitting and some gentle form of exercise…

I wonder if any of my assumptions are true. I wonder if some women are just cut out for motherhood, maybe they’re just naturals. I wonder how long it takes them to look like that. I wonder if they ever feel guilty, as they tote around their adorable newborn, for looking so perfect. I wonder if their children are as perfect as they are. I wonder if they have OCD and wish they could look as depraved as I do on a regular basis (HAHAHAHA). I wonder if they’ve always been perfect, maybe they’re mothers were also perfect – is it hereditary?! I wonder if they know other moms find their perfect appearance offensive. I wonder if they know my first inclination is to seriously dislike them. I wonder what the hell I’m doing wrong? I wonder if I could just try a little harder?

I could do that. I could be that mom…

But then I remember. I remember that I’m exhausted. That I got a broken 6 hours of sleep last night and the night before – and then I wonder if getting more sleep makes me more tired, because this is a good streak and I can’t stop yawning. I remember that the house is semi-clean and that I did the dishes yesterday and cooked a meal and put two boys to bed on top of working a full day. I remember that I’ve gotten to shower every morning for the last 5 days in a row and I’m thankful. I remember that my boys are happy and healthy and smart and kind. I remember that I am trying. That I’ve successfully lasted on my new “lifestyle” (aka diet) for the last 7 days. That I’ve lost 13 lbs in the past two and a half weeks. That I’ve done things I should be proud of regardless of how another woman looks. I remember that I chose to watch fire truck cartoons in a different language last night for an hour with my toddler instead of trying to put him to bed earlier and earn myself some free time. I remember that I chose to spend 45 minutes trying to give him a haircut that didn’t look like he’d cautiously stuck his head in a fan, instead of trying to do something with my current hair game – which is growing grayer by the second. I remember that this morning when my partner left with the boys, I chose to spend an hour catching up on the news, cooking myself breakfast and showering instead of applying makeup, styling my hair and skillfully picking out an outfit before leaving for work. I remember that I’ve spent my time wisely, for me.

I remember this isn’t a competition – everybody’s human and the end goal is the same for all of us: happy and healthy kids. And then –because I’m only human, you guys – I think to myself, “maybe she looks like shit the other 6 days of the week….?”

Amen.