Embrace Your Hot Mess

As much as I embrace being a hot mess, I have my moments when I wish I could be like those Instagram moms. You know the ones I'm talking about. Those moms who post artfully arranged, perfectly posed, and gorgeously filtered photos of their kids, their house, or their latest crafting project. Those moms who dress their kids like they just stepped out of some upscale catalog. Those moms who do yoga with their kid perched somewhere on their person, and post a zillion photos of their healthy shake and chiseled abs.

Moms who aren't me.

Here I am, thirty pounds overweight, can barely touch my toes, and who can woof down an entire package of cinnamon rolls.

Yesterday was actually a fancy day for me. I put on lipstick. Apparently, this is a huge deal because when I went to the store, everyone kept asking me why I was "all dressed up".

I was wearing jeans I've nearly outgrown because my ass got too fat, paired with my Hot Mess Moms Club tee shirt.  I put onlipstick to distract from the fact that I hadn't washed my hair in two days.

When lipstick is such a step up from your normal look that it makes you look 'fancy', you're totally a hot mess of a person.

I'd love to get one of those perfect pictures of the girls, laughing as we stroll along some babbling brook with the sun filtering through the canopy of trees while on a family hike. But we're more the let's-play-video-games sort of people. And I assure you, no one wants to see a picture of the Frankie, Jesse, and Tyler trying to wrestle the controller out of my hands because I'm a  game hog.

It'd be nice if I could cook one of those spectacular homemade meals and post pictures of it from my immaculate kitchen. But that's not going to happen. We do chicken cutlets sitting around the coffee table while watching Lip Sync Battle or Impracticable Jokers.

We don't have perfectly arranged flowers on a perfectly polished table. We have a framed photo of Frankenstein's Monster on the table beside the sofa. On my desk are framed concert tickets from when Frankie took me to see Metallica. On our mantel in the dinning room are Living Dead Dolls, a figurine of Lady Death, and busts of Frankenstein's Monster and the Bride. It's safe to say, you can't slap a filter on that stuff and make it look like a house designed by Pottery Barn.

There's no hiding the fact that we're more the Addams family than Pearson family. And although sometimes I wish I could be like those perfect moms, I love our family just as we are. Movie fanatics who can do absolutely nothing together and still have the best day ever.

If I've learned nothing else since becoming a parent, it's that every mom is a hot mess in their own way. Some of us just hide it better. And while I sometimes wish I was the sort of mom in those perfectly filtered Instagram pictures, I make sure to remember that it's just a one second snapshot of a much larger life. And none of us know what happens before or after that photo is taken. So, live your life in all it's hot mess glory and never judge yourself by what someone else presents to the world, because you never know what's hiding behind someone's smile.

ParentingRenee RoccoComment