WONDEROAK

“Don’t compare.” I say to myself as I make reluctant eye contact with a mom at school drop off with brushed hair and a smile that makes me feel like I need to go back to bed. “Morning,” I say as my kids fall out the door with mismatched socks and a rough case of bedhead. I reach over the seat and snag a rogue candy wrapper that flutters to the ground in the wind of their exit.

Maybe she brushed her hair and doesn’t need coffee to form words, but I don’t know what her life is like. I don’t know what made her cry this week. I don’t know what her challenges are.

“Don’t compare.” I say to myself as I scroll Instagram past abs, succulents, bohemian rugs, high waisted jeans, and filters that make that woman and her kids look like magical unicorns.

Maybe in her house there is always a soft glow of light behind her long blonde tresses, I DON’T KNOW, I can’t judge that. What I do know is that we all have our share of struggles. I know that we all have highs and we all have lows and on the inside we are all just doing our best.

“Don’t compare.” I say to myself as I Facebook memories reminds me of a time 10 lbs ago when I hadn’t yet perfected my queso recipe.

Over the last year that woman in the picture has dealt with a lot and sometimes she dealt with it with late night quesadillas and episodes of a Netflix original. That’s okay, there’s lots of time to start eating healthier. Maybe that will be today, maybe not, but either way the woman today is every bit as worthy of love as the woman last year. She’s actually a motherflippinchampion.

“Don’t compare.” I say to myself as I watch a mom perform perfect playground parenting. Her voice is soft and kind and her kid responds like they are filming a parenting tutorial. I actually didn’t know that this kind of thing happened in real life. Meanwhile I catch my breath after chasing down my 5yo who was just rampaging across the playground with some other kid’s shovel. My parenting sounded like I was trying to reason with a cat in heat.

I don’t know her life, but I do know we are just two moms doing our best.

I can only stay in my own lane. I can only do my best with the what is mine. I can only choose to have compassion for myself so compassion comes easier for others.

Listen, the only reason I compare is if I’m being too freaking hard on myself; that’s a fact.

The only reason I compare is if I’ve forgotten to give myself grace, time, and patience.

Every single one of us deserves grace, time, and patience…

And that my friend, includes me and it includes you.

I don’t care if you’re house looks a house off of Tidying Up (pre- Marie Kondo’s magic), I don’t care if you’re in the worst mood ever today, I don’t care if your skinny jeans don’t fit or if you’re barely hangin’ on by a thread…

You’re a motherflippingchampion.

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