You know those moms. They look totally put together each morning at preschool drop-off. They’ve always on top of everything that their kids need for school. So organized and polished.
That was the dream. To be one of those moms.
But, instead, I’m THAT mom.
Let me give you an example from Monday morning.
My kids decided to sleep in. This rarely happens, but when it does, of course it’s on a school morning: we now have 15 minutes to get everyone in the van. I rush around and get the two who are going to school into their clothes while deciding a diaper change is enough for the baby.
As for me, I threw on a pair of shorts and decided the tank top that I’d slept in would be fine for drop off- since I don’t actually have to get out of the van for that. So, of course I don’t need to put on a bra. My hair is in the messy bun that I’d tied it up into the night before. And I don’t need shoes, either.
We rush out the door and root around in the van for snacks for the boys to take to school, while promising my kindergartener that I will check the lunch calendar when I get home and bring his lunch to school if they are having something he doesn’t like.
Drop off the kindergartener. Drive to preschool, drop off the preschooler.
The assistant who gets my child out of the van asks me if he has his white t-shirt in his backpack.
What white t-shirt? I have no idea what on earth she’s talking about. Was there something about that on his calendar? Where did I put that calendar anyway?
But, I smile like I have a clue when she tells me that his class is painting their shirts that morning. I tell her that I’ll just run across the street to the store and pick one up for him and be right back.
Drive across the street, thankful that the parking lot of K-Mart is still empty. Survey what is in the van: there’s a light pink hoodie that I can toss over my tank to disguise the fact that I don’t have on a bra. Even though my shorts are bright pink and I sort of look like a giant cotton candy in this outfit.
Then I start looking for shoes. In the trunk, my options are a pair of black high heels with bright pink accents or a pair of black flats. I put on the flats, grab my youngest, who is still in pajamas, and head into the store, praying not to see anyone I know. Or anyone at all.
The K-Mart gods are smiling on me so I am able to grab a white shirt and checkout without seeing anyone but the cashier. We were in and out of there so fast that I got back to preschool before all the drop-offs were over: I was able to hand the white t-shirt to one of the assistants through my window.
That morning? Pretty typical. Because I’m not one of those moms, I’m THAT mom.
I don’t look put together while I do this mom thing, but I still get it done.
And my boys love me anyway.
Are you one of those moms or are you THAT mom?