Let’s just start out with this one burning question of mine:

“Why am I the ONLY mom at preschool drop-off that looks like a stray cat after a severe thunderstorm? But seriously….WHY?”

---

It finally happened. My oldest love nugget started preschool this past week and I AM SO EXCITED. I get three full, glorious hours, THREE TIMES A WEEK, free from my patience-testing-almost-four-year-old! And since my one year old is yet to speak in full sentences, that means it is three full hours of NO ARGUMENTS AT ALL.

CAN I GET AN AMEN!?

This is the best day of my life, I’m sure of it! Ok, ok, that is dramatic, this is the fourth best day of my life!

1. My wedding day.
2. The birth of my baby patience-sucker girl
3. The birth of my baby wrinkle-inducer boy
4. The first time I attended Baconfest (scratch that, that’s embarrassing)
5.  (#4 for all intents and purposes) THE FIRST DAY OF PRESCHOOL!

I mean, I completely forgot just how easy it is to get things done with just a one year old in the house. I know, I know, all of you “moms of one” are wanting to cut off my mammories right now. BUT TRUST ME, when you have two (or more) miniature gremlins running around the house spilling all the food and using your body like a magnetized jungle gym every moment of your life, then having just the baby at home seems like a friggen’ vacation. I am NOT saying that having one child is easy, I am simply saying that my brain is only having to function at 50% normal capacity right  now and I AM STOKED. And when that baby goes down for his morning nap?! SCHLABLOOUU! I’M FREE!

I’ve got to admit, I was feeling pretty damn proud of myself on that first preschool drop-off morning, too. I managed to get both kids up, dressed, fed, and pictures taken with over a half hour to spare. All while running on approximately 4 hours of sleep and 19 cups of coffee. There weren’t even any tears shed, from EITHER party. Everlee couldn’t have run in to the classroom faster with barely a goodbye and I couldn’t have ran out any faster in hopes to enjoy every free moment I could. It all went swimmingly. It was like the skies opened up and God himself came down to make sure that I could pull it together. Thanks, God, you’re the shizz.

But quickly upon arriving at my first attempt at preschool drop-off, I started to come to a very obvious and unflattering realization about myself: I look bad. Like REAL bad. And the saddest part? I didn’t think that I looked that terrible when I left the house. But now, I know.

All of these parents look….well……GOOD. They are positively put together in a way that only happens for me if I am ACTUALLY going somewhere of importance. But let’s be honest, that’s about twice a year. They are a glaring example of my inadequacies as a female.

The hair is all curled.

The makeup is all done and fresh.

The clothes are all clean, wrinkly free, and somewhat trendy.

The smells are all nice.

And then… there is me.

 

Yea, for real. I literally just took that picture of me upon arrival home from preschool drop-off. And see that yummy morsel on my shoulder? That is baby puke.

Now, HOLD UP JUDGY JUDY, go easy on me. That little shoulder deposit happened sometime after I left the house and before I got home. I have to carry the fat baby in for drop-off and despite me catching the relatively-frequent waft of vomit, I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS THERE. This photo was the exact moment that I finally found the source of the gag-worthy smell. I promise I would have changed my shirt had I known. (At least, I THINK I would…) And since I haven’t officially checked my yoga pants yet this morning, there is about an 80% chance that there is a hole somewhere in them.

And see that makeup? Yea, that is left over from the night before. See how one eye is slightly smokier than the other? Yea, I didn’t know it looked like that, either. OOOF. Do I make a habit of sleeping in my makeup? NO. But both stubborn children had a photo shoot last night and well… you can imagine how that ended. It ended with both of them going IMMEDIATELY to bed and me cracking open a nice, large bottle of Pinot and then falling asleep on the couch. CONFESSION: when I wake up on the couch at 2am, the LAST thing I am going to do is rejuvenate my energy level by splashing my face with water and delicious, orange-smelling makeup remover. HELL NO, H2O! So instead I sleepily climb the stairs, pray to the Mom God that my children won’t wake up (the little chubby one will, you bet your sweet booty he will), and hit the bed as fast as I can. BUT, because of this bad makeup-removing-choice that I made last night, you can see the evidence of it ON MY CHIN. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice, the damn thing has a brain! But I digress…

That brings me to the hair. Ugh, that hair. I have no good explanation for the hair other than the fact that I am stressed and exhausted and refuse to wake up an hour earlier than normal just so I can straighten and style my luscious locks for PRESCHOOL FRICKEN DROP OFF. Sure… I run a few errands after dropoff but HyVee and Target do not require black tie attire, so it is what it is and I SAY GOOD DAY.

While I try not to compare myself to others around me because I truly am my own person, I am having a hard time being the only mom in the church that looks homeless. My mind IMMEDIATELY starts to analyze the situation in an effort to make myself feel better. Sure, a few of them are clearly headed to work. I can tell you that the dad in the suit and tie is not heading to Target after this. And that’s cool, because I do not have to immediately head to work. Therefore, there is no immediate reason that I should have to look like a celebrity to take my kid to school. But the rest of them? WHO THE HELL KNOWS WHY. One of them was hanging around talking about how she needed to mop the floor while the little one was away. ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME? MOP THE MOTHER FLIPPING FLOOR while looking like THAT?! You know what I look like while mopping the floor? SEE ABOVE PHOTO. Jeez, my poor husband. Apparently I am doing this whole “mopping the floor” thing all wrong. My inadequacies are showing again… 

Also, the moms stay to hang out. THEY STAY FOR A LONG TIME after the designated drop off to chat, catch up, get to know one another, yadda yadda. Don’t they highly value their free time? I sure as hell don’t want to waste ONE MORSEL of a second of the free time that preschool has so lovingly awarded me. You know what I do? Run out as fast as I can so as not to allow anyone to figure out that I am, indeed, the reason the room smells like puke. No offense to the other moms, it’s not personal, I’m sure you are just great. But do you think that I want to stay there and mingle with the mom models while I look like Gary Busey?

The other Preschool Moms:

ME:

You know that movie “Bad Moms”? Yea, I am POSITIVE that the writers followed me around for a week and got their entire screenplay. I should get royalties. I am a walking, breathing “bad mom”. Most of the time, I don’t even feel bad about it. But, just for a split second, I became very aware of the differences between me and them. However, I have NO INTENTION of ever waking up earlier than my allotted five (on a good night) hours of sleep per night so that I can curl my mane prior to preschool. See those bags under my eyes? Yea, waking up any earlier won’t help those babies at all. Also, I have NO INTENTION of putting on my cutest sundress and sandals in a feeble attempt to keep up with the Joneses. Again, no offense Joneses. You do you, boo.

I will normally improve a little and PROBABLY take my makeup off most nights. However, that means that most likely I won’t be wearing ANY at drop-off the next morning. Say hello to my chin zits, world!

Since I have no intention of making much effort to improve my morning appearance, I think I’ll just have to find a new way of dropping my spawn off in an effort to make me feel more adequate. Do you think the teachers will be ok with me ducking down below the window, smacking the name placard up on the window with my Go-Go-Gadget arm, and cracking the door so she can run in? All while I army crawl down the hallway and out the side door before any of the Beautiful Bettys see me? I think for Everlee’s social sake, it’s best that she not be claimed by the hobbit of a mom that birthed her.

But then again, as I was sprinting out, I heard Everlee loud and clear on the playground:

“You should watch where you are going!”

Ok……scratch that. Maybe we deserve each other.