Our Mess

Do you ever feel like you’re having one of those days where you are the most unorganized, unkempt person on the planet?

I find that since having children, I am in an endless cycle of them.

Let’s take today, for example.

This morning, as I often do, I smiled at Facebook posts featuring perfectly-dressed children beaming in the arms of their perfectly styled, relaxed-looking mothers. These posts always impress me to no end. Everyone is neat; everyone’s outfits are unruffled. They leave me in almost as much awe as the snapshots of children sitting in their car seats- in CLEAN cars! How does this happen? What is this wild magic?

These posts make me wonder if there’s a secret I don’t know, or perhaps an extra hour in the day of which I’m not taking advantage? I want to ask these gorgeous ladies how the hell they do it, because as much as I want to be that picture, I’m more like…like…you know those “wine and paint” nights that are really popular these days? I’m that one (because there’s always one) painting that looks as though the painter had a little too much shiraz before she put the brush to the canvas.

I pondered this as I drove to work with an Elmo toothbrush balanced on my lap, in the hopes that TODAY WAS THE DAY that Gracie would actually unlock her jaws of steel and let me scrub her teeth.

I pondered it some more as I dropped Vince off at school and realized he had a blob of dried toothpaste on his t-shirt (at least he brushed), granola bar bits glued to his face, and his shoes on the wrong feet.

I pondered it yet again when I got to daycare, wrestled Gracie out of the pajama shirt that I was too tired to wrestle her out of at home, convinced her to wear both of her shoes (at least they were on the right feet), and tossed the toothbrush into my purse in defeat (as usual).

Those cute little posts popped into my head when I was walking into my office and someone asked me if I knew my dress was unzipped; and again as I reached into my purse and realized I had lost my wallet; and again when I picked up my lunch bag and spilled Thai green curry all over my right leg; aaaaand one more time during the hour-long trek home to frantically search for that lost wallet and clean the curry off my right shoe.

How do some moms find the time to stay so radiant? (If you are one of these moms, please email me with step-by-step instructions).  My nails haven’t seen a cuticle pusher in months; my hair is more often than not reminiscent of a palm tree in a wind storm; and I have this permanent “I could probably fall asleep right this second” glaze over my eyes.

And the kids…Good Lord.

I’ve never seen two people get so sticky from just drinking a glass of milk. Out of a straw!

I’m yet to find a pair of shoes that lasts more than a week before they’re covered in dirt and bite marks. Yes, I said bite marks, people.

The day I see them NOT using their shirts as wet wipes I may actually have a heart attack.

But I suppose there is a sweet side to our sticky, frizzy, leftovers-from-last-night-scented life.

I like the way Gracie twirls her fingers in the mess of crazy waves on my head while we’re watching a movie.

I like walking into Vince’s room and finding the colorful pile of books that we read the night before strewn along the side of his bed.

I like the way they both smell like mango shampoo and chocolate granola when they kiss me goodbye each morning.

I like the way Vince clasps his hands together and very honestly says, “Oh Mommy you look BEAUTIFUL!” when I walk into the living room in my ¾-zipped dress and half-heartedly applied eyeliner and Trader Joe’s mint-flavored lip balm.

I like how Grace puts her pants on backwards and her shirt on upside down and declares proudly, “I did it by myself, Mommy!”

I like the way my husband sighs and smiles when the kids sit like statues on the couch while I give them matching mani/pedis.

I even like the fact that their messy eating habits ensure that if I’m stuck in traffic and feeling hungry, there are enough chips, goldfish crackers and pretzels on the floor of my backseat to make a meal the size of the feast Snoopy put together on the Peanuts Thanksgiving Special.

I guess I like our mess. Maybe we’re not meant to be put-together, and maybe radiant isn’t in the cards for me.

You might be wondering where I’m going with this.

I have no idea- haven’t you been reading the post?!

No, but seriously, if you never pour your lunch on your lap; if you have a magical cosmetic solution to looking well-rested; and/or if you know how to get 2 kids ready for school and style your hair AND file your nails; please, for the love of God, email me. I want in.

I’ll be waiting patiently and scrubbing my shoe.

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