Thank the Gods and Goddesses for all of you. For my friend Kristen, who has seen me plop my child down in the middle of her store’s floor and not bat an eye and then proceed to feed that child puff after puff, so we can chat just a little longer.
For my neighbors who understand I need a glass of wine before 5 PM somedays…
For colleagues at work who don’t expect me to remember much of anything beyond the basics.
For my support group mamas, who know unspeakable thoughts I had about Mae during our exercise-ball-bouncing months, and they replied “me too” and “you’re doing a good job.”
For the woman in the grocery line who didn’t give me a dirty look when Mae started squealing, but instead, let me in front of her.
For my nanny, who understood I needed to just drop off my baby at the last minute sometimes when Mae was colicky and I was about to break apart.
I’m so thankful for women that I can break apart in front of. For women who don’t expect effortless perfection, who don’t expect anything about motherhood to look effortless, who don’t say anything when my baby is without socks on a slightly chilly day because she probably stepped in poop or maybe I just forgot them.
Women who know that parenting differently doesn’t mean better. It’s just different. I’ve met some “sanctimommies,” but I ignore those women, and I’ve found plenty of moms who don’t have time to engage in the so-called “mommy wars.”
Thank you, my sanity-keepers. You are all invited over to my house. Wear your hole-y yoga pants and forget the deodorant. 😉 #tellamom
Or we can go to a bar. You wouldn’t judge me for taking my baby to a bar: