We've all been there. Comparing ourselves to others.. whether it's about our clothes or if we have the "it" bag of the season, or perhaps it was our houses or our jobs. If you're a blogger I'm sure you've been through the number-of-followers comparison game at some point.
And now that I've entered motherhood, a whole new comparison begins. Is my child reaching her milestones at the same time as her child? Is my child wearing the trendiest new kids clothes out there (silly, but true)? Am I getting dressed in cute clothes and putting on a full face of makeup with my hair perfectly done AND taking my child out in public so that she gets her daily dose of fresh air and worldly stimulation like that mom is? Is my child's party going to be as great as they are on Pinterest!? Seriously, I've decided that Pinterest is both awesome and evil all at the same time.
It's natural. We compare ourselves to others. So many moms seem to have it all. The perfect husband, the perfect home, the perfect outfit, the perfect hair that seems to fall perfectly on her perfectly powdered face, and the perfect child that never cries and sleeps through the night. New mommy bloggers especially fascinate me. How they can find time to get dressed, look amazing, take photos, blog, and care for a newborn is beyond me. Seriously, how do these women do it?
Well, I don't have the answer but I know for sure that I don't do it. And I'm ok with it. Do I wear sweatpants more often than I'd like to admit? Yes. Do I go a day too long without washing my hair sometimes? Yes. Do I even remember how to put on makeup?? Hardly. Does my baby sleep through the night? Not even close. But it's ok.
When little girl and I go out to run errands or do some shopping, it's a miracle we both even make it out by the time I wanted. Most of the time, my shirt either has drool, baby food, or milk mushed in somewhere... my hair has been pulled in all directions by a freakishly strong baby... and I probably only put mascara on one eye because I got distracted at some point and then forgot.
And you know what? I'm ok with that. I pat myself on the back for even making it out into the world. I pat myself on the back that my baby got fed and dressed. I pat myself on the back that my baby is happy and healthy. With my disheveled hair and half made up face, I look at her and she gives me the biggest smile and I realize, I'm doing just fine.