So you walked in to preschool last week empty-handed, behind a mom armed with Teacher Appreciation Week gifts. And that happened just before it dawned on you that you'd promised to make the class play-doh and then just didn't??
I mean, you were so busy forgetting to make that ENT follow-up appointment and worn out from dodging the PTO emails ALL YEAR, it's pretty understandable actually.
But it's cool. Because, remember the time you showed up to school and all the other kids were dressed in their PJs? Your kid looked way more prepared for school than everyone else, running around in footie pajamas....even with that grape jelly stuck in his hair.
That meltdown you had in the car? Nobody saw that. And since you can't remember the last time you wore mascara anyways, there was zero lasting evidence of it. So you're cool.
See? You are KILLING it.
Like, no. Wait. Actually the opposite of that.
You've kept those kids ALIVE! (And that is no joke, because they often seem to be hell-bent on actively trying to murder each other). Pat yourself on the back big girl, because you clearly cannot be stopped!
And hey, before I forget, don't forget to fill out that survey for the preschool Speech Therapist. It's on that stack of papers in the kitchen...no, the other one....no, not that one.
Yeah, it's in that one. It's right underneath the bill for that chest x-ray last winter (maybe go ahead and pay that?).
Oh crap. She wanted us to complete and return this by yesterday?
Well. Um. Excellent news. An opportunity to recycle! See? You're a suburb person. No. Stellar. Recycle the crap out of that bad boy. Save that planet!
See? You've got this!
And Here's the deal: today, we will celebrate you anyways.
Sure, you've f*cked up. Your 3-year-old even said the word one time. To the sitter. And he covered for you when she asked where he heard it!! (That kid is nothing if not loyal.)
Lordy knows, you haven't gotten it all just right. Those kids are totally building strong cases for therapy....like, as we speak. Hell, there will be plenty of future f*ck-ups too. We both know it.
You will forget to pack lunches and have the time wrong for the soccer game and you will most CERTAINLY pose an immediate threat against every one of your offspring's chances of passing 6th grade math.
But we celebrate you. Because you maybe do suck a little, but hey, you also reside inside of all of us. Sure, many women do a better job of suppressing the inner 'Shit Mom.' They actually join the PTO and they remember the Play Doh. They know every kids' name in the whole preschool class and somehow also find time to shower daily. But yes, even those sanctimommy queens have an inner Shit Mom and that means that someday, her kid will show up wearing breakfast instead of a super hero shirt. And in that moment, you will feel both deeply sympathetic and also somehow vindicated (and possibly also a little self-satisfied).
You're terrible. We know this. But let's celebrate you anyways. Because even though you are literally the worst; even though you sometimes cost us in late fees and don't actually know how to cook without a microwave...
...you love those kids.
You love those kids more than anything (apparently, even more than an uninterrupted 7 hours of sleep, remember when that used to be a thing?) and that's really all that matters anyways.
Happy Mother's Day to all the Shit Moms out there. Keep doing what you're doing...
...and for the love of God, don't forget that Monday is Show and Share.
PS Sorry, mom. Sorry for all the cursing.