Yup - She's a mom!

I have to admit - before I became a mother (ok, I start like a million posts with this sentence) I would look at other "moms" (that's what they were to me before - in quotes) and be a little shocked by their appearance.  I would think Didn't she have time to wipe the puke off her shoulder before she left the house?  Or, Running a comb through that rat's nest wouldn't kill her!  Ok - that last one was just mean, but you get the gist.  Well, the answer is HELL NO!  That poor woman didn't have a spare second to feed herself much less clean the puke/breakfast/snot off her shoulder!  She was probably running out the door when her kid decided to sneeze all over her after wiping remnants of breakfast down her black top -- That's another thing I learned quickly - don't wear black!  Although genius for the post-baby body, not so genius for the outpour of baby fluids --  I can't even count the number of days I showed up to work with mystery funk on my clothing.

 For example, I could tell my co-workers were politely scanning the sweater dress I was wearing last week and wondering what the huge, black streaks were at the bottom.  I even caught one of my friends doing this, and I quickly said, "I bet you're wondering what those huge, black streaks are!"  She responded with, "Well, you're a mother..."  Actually, I couldn't blame this one on my sweet daughter.  I was getting my car washed on my lunch break (I can't do it with my daughter in the car, and that's a whole other post!) when I obediently went to the giant, self-vacuum station to begin sucking up the various animal crackers, crumbs, grass, and dog hair from my car.  As I was transferring from the front seat to the back, the industrial vacuum decided to attack my sweater dress.  That's right - it just started sucking up my dress inch by inch!  So here I am, trying to free my dress from the jaws of suction, as more and more of my legs and thighs are revealing themselves to the innocent bystanders trying to vacuum their cars.  Needless to say, the industrial vacuum of terror left its mark on my Gap dress that day.

I have a whole new outlook on disheveled mothers.  And next time you begin to judge, try to remember just getting out the door with a living, breathing kid, much less fed and dressed is a victory - trust me.