As a new mom I felt very, very alone. I was also newly married, so I tried to make my husband into my girlfriend. He was a terrible girlfriend. First: When I had an emotionally crazy day, he was scared of me. Second: He does not like drama. He can hash out all of life’s problems in under 30 seconds. Third: He makes fun of all TV shows. Fourth: He doesn’t even like junk food.

I wanted to hash out life’s problems over a two-three hour glass of wine. I needed to verbally process the fact that my son’s diaper poop-sploded all over my grocery-filled shopping cart. I needed to laugh until I cried about rediculous topics. I needed to talk about the feeling that I was losing myself in motherhood and didn’t know who I was anymore.

For me, some things just don’t heal unless I can talk, be heard, cry, laugh, and be encouraged. Also, they don’t heal without junk food.

My husband is my best friend, but he’s not that best friend.

Somewhere along the line I woke up and realized that unless I wanted to kidnap the door-to-door Hoover saleslady and make her eat chocolate with me, I was going to have to go out and find my tribe.

Over the years, this is what I’ve learned:

Not unlike House Hunters, sometimes you just have to go out and find your people. You have to go to the coffee shop, go to that book study, or strike up a conversation at the park. It is like scouting for a Hollywood production company, except you don’t pay people to be your friend.

When you get a vibe you like, make the first move. I was terrified of 98% of my friends before I got to know them. I was terrified of rejection and that we wouldn’t find anything to talk about. I was terrified because they were probably perfect.

I was wrong.

DON’T OVER THINK IT. This is the dating period; you aren’t signing a blood oath of best-friendship. Keep it simple; invite them to the beach, or over for drinks…you won’t regret it.

*If you do regret it, pat yourself on the back for being brave and try again.

Be real. As you feel comfortable, start talking about the real stuff. Talk about the bad attitude you had when you woke up that morning or the fact that you forgot your kid’s school performance. Talk about your saggy boobs (that’s my go-to) or don’t change out of your hideous, but beloved sweat pants, and leave some dishes in the sink.

In my opinion, this is the true test of friendship. My closest friends passed this test, and at this stage of my life they are truly the only kind of friends I have time for. If I can’t be my authentic, messy self then I will have to pass, and the same goes for them. If they keep up a facade of perfection, I’ll also have to pass.

True friendship is about knowing and being known. It’s about being loved and accepted as you are.

It’s about being shipwrecked together.

Keep making the time. Friendship takes investment. It takes making time even though you don’t have any.  I recently listened to a podcast talking about how moms often sacrifice taking care of themselves…and one of the first things to go is friendship.

Nothing can replace time invested. It is hard to carve it out of the chaos, but the payoff is sanity. The payoff is roots that grow deep and friends who love you when your hair smells like wet dog.

The pay off is that your roots start to grow deep. They grow deep through miscarriages, through anxiety, and through sickness. They grow through rainbow babies. They grow through healing and celebration and triumph. They grow through hundreds of glasses of wine and hundreds of cups of coffee. They grow through hundreds of playdates, early morning walks, and late night texts.

There’s no substitute for time.

We all want to belong. None of us want to be marooned without our people.

My friend YOU ARE WORTH IT. You are worth the very best of friends exactly as you are today. No masks, no pretending, just you as you are.

There are millions of women in the trenches who get it, we just have to find eachother.

XOXOX,

Jess

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So far everyone is suffering and wearing weird clothes to school, because I’m not there to control their fashion decisions. My kindergartner wore pink leggings and cutoff jean shorts to her school Christmas program. I snuck in a few minutes late from work and scanned the kids on stage. When my eyes fell on Oaklee, I burst out laughing. There she was, surrounded by red and white dresses and tiny bow ties. My husband waited in great anticipation for my reaction. Our eyes met when I slid into the seat next to him. He grinned and nodded proudly. “Yeah I did…” he whispered, giving me a big wink.

He is the worst stay at home mom ever.

I find it kind of attractive.

Watching her sing “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” dressed like Daisy from the Dukes of Hazard was the therapy I never knew I needed.

And probably it was everybody else’s therapy too, because it is always nice to know that even though you forgot to sign the reading log, someone else thought it was the Fourth of July.

Sometimes we work because we have to. Sometimes we work because we want to. Sometimes we are SAHMs because we have to. Sometimes we are because we want to. There are so many difficult decisions to make as parents and no one carries that burden like we do. We are all forging ahead like blind tour guides hoping we chose the right trail and that no one gets head lice.

When I was a brand new mom a friend who was experienced told me, “Don’t worry so much about the “right” way. Love your kids well and follow your heart. They will all be okay.”

And I was all, “ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Tell me the right way right now before I SCREW EVERYONE UP.

The more I parent though, the more I realize she was right. There is no “exactly perfect” way to do motherhood. There is a million and one ways to do it, and do it well.  My prayer is that my kids grow up confident and compassionate. That they grow up into hard workers, strong leaders, and generous givers. That they grow up knowing that they are loved, and knowing how to love. The other stuff?

It’s just pink leggings and cutoff jean shorts.

I am a working mom right now and we are all going to be okay.

Soon we are taking a trip and I will be a traveling mom, and we are all going to be okay.

I may find myself a stay at home mom again soon, and we are all going to be okay.

That voice that says I’m not enough? That I’m failing, and I’m disappointing my kids? The one that says I shouldn’t be working, or staying at home, or taking a moment to get my nails done? The voice that says every one else is more patient, and perfect, and wonderful, and makes homemade cookies, and has clean kitchens?

That voice is a liar.

Whatever kind of mom you are today. Whether you are a a working mom, a stay at home mom, a together mom, a falling apart mom,  a tired mom, a happy mom, a single mom, if I could, I would take your hand and say, “Carry on Mama, your kids adore you. Especially that one biting your shoulder and screaming. I can tell.”

We need each other.

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We clean things so they can be destroyed right exactly before you drop by. I don’t mean to brag, but my kids are capable of making my house a major health code violation in ten seconds flat. Sometimes I think about posting pictures of what my house looks like when it’s clean – just for reference.

Welcome to my home. Here is a picture of what my house looked like one time last week.  It could also look like this more often if I had 47 maids and manservants.

Due to a current cash flow problem, we have had to reduce our Downton Abbey staff size.

Please come back in 25 years to see it like this again.

Thank you.

We are always smelling things. Pillows. Clothes. Carseats. Butts. My life is just a game of: where and what is that horrible smell? Did something die? Did someone poop? Is that a piece of pizza under there??

I just need you to know that I KNOW about the smell. Okay?

There’s only one thing worse than being stinky, and that’s been unknowingly stinky.

I am not that girl.

I have been trying to solve this mystery since Tuesday.

I appreciate your patience.

We take family photos and hang them on the wall so that we can live vicariously through those happy…and remarkably clean people.

Look at them, aren’t they precious?

Laundry. We are literally always doing laundry.

Step 1: Wash load.

Step 2: Forget.

Step 3: Smell Load.

Step 4: Hmm. Smells fine. Dry load.

Step 5: Smell dry clothes.

Step 6: Dammit.

Step 7: Re-wash and dry.

Step 8: Pull out dry clothes to fold “later” and throw them on your bed.

Step 9: Forget until you go to bed. Dammit.

Step 10: Throw clothes on floor.

Step 11: In the morning have children run through clothes until you can no longer tell what is clean.

Step 12: Throw pile back on bed because you cannot even.

Step 13: Repeat until you die.

We are keeping people alive.

We are just saving lives, one pair of adult scissors at a time.

Delivering the children. To school, from school, to birthday parties, to dance, to sports…

I’m just a girl, sitting in a minivan…praying you don’t ask me to get out.

These Lorelei Gilmore shorty shorts did not anticipate leaving the vehicle. I brought the kids and they are dressed. I can not guarantee any other kinds of hassles or formalities such as bras, pants, or shoes.

The kitchen counter. We all have our one thing that makes us feel like we might be in control. Mine is my kitchen counter. Kids engaging in WWF wrestling? Toddler screaming while being permanently velcroed to my calf? It ACTUALLY being cloudy with a chance of meatballs?

I do not care if the heavens have opened and giant chili cheese dogs are bouncing off my front porch.

I can’t control everything – but I can control one thing: and that is my kitchen counter. If you need me, I will be wiping it down for the 102nd time today.

Feeding people. I serve up three meals a day so that people can cry, fall on the floor in convulsions, and agonize over which is better: my cooking – or- starving. Then they choose starving…because my food is just. that. bad.

Insert eternal eye roll.

And then the Lord gave us wine. Thank you, Lord.

Grocery Shopping. I am making moral decisions at the grocery store.

Do I spend my life savings on organic – and feel very good about my healthy and conscientious choices?

Or…

Do I fill my cart with hormones and pesticides and feel like a money saving boss?

Life is so complicated.

I cope by buying mostly organic and hitting up Dairy Queen on the way home for lunch…because balance.

We are not searching for unsolicited advice.

Things you can do instead of give me advice:

Clean my minivan.

Get me a Roomba that eats toys.

Pour me a coffee.

Tell me I’m pretty.

That is all.

We are not judging you. 

You know what I don’t have time for?

Judging.

I do not care if your kid eats fruit snacks or cucumbers. I don’t care if you homeschool or are a working mom. I just don’t even care.

I don’t care if you don’t want kids or are on the career track. I say more power to you – and please while you’re up there, break a few glass ceilings for my girls, would ya?

I don’t think my life is harder or that I’m some sort of martyr. I think that this is exactly what I chose to do – and sometimes it is hard, because that is the nature of things that matter. Just like any great dream, it is worth the cost.

Things worth believing in are also worth fighting for. Sometimes that looks like hard work and sacrifice.

These kids – they are my dream.

And I believe in them 100%.

You do you my friend.

****

***Our hearts go out to all suffering from Hurricane Matthew. One way to join ongoing efforts in Haiti is to donate to Doctors Without Borders by clicking this link.

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Whenever I don’t have a pile of laundry, I do teach them French and help them draw Rembrandt replicas with crayons. That hasn’t happened yet, but I’m projecting by the time they’re in their 30’s I’ll have reached the bottom of the basket. Pretty excited to get started.

I have gone kid-deaf. If my husband and I go anywhere together and he’s driving, I’m going to use that time to jam to tunes and pluck my eyebrows. Obviously. But, after a while I can feel his raised eyebrows boring into my soul. It really messes with a girl’s mojo. Finally the hints become far too unsubtle to ignore. “What?”

“THE KIDS.” Says husband.

“What?” I ask again.

“I’m DRIVING, can you DO SOMETHING?”

It is only then that I notice the screaming in the back seat. It has something to do with a receipt they found on the floor and who should be the proud owner of such a treasure. I try to explain that my ability to “tune-out” is a learned skill, but he doesn’t want to be my student.

There is only one reason I’m wearing a parka at school pick-up in the Spring. It wasn’t a bra day, it just wasn’t.

I have friends who don’t drink coffee. I literally cannot comprehend this lifestyle. My parenting strategy is to try not talking until I’m caffeinated.  I once was told that an apple gives you more energy than a cup of coffee. Hmmm. First of all, an apple only gives me enough energy to eat two toasted cheese bagels. Secondly, I tried it, and if apple energy makes your body feel like lead, and your mind feel like applesauce, then I had it.

Also, I’m contemplating getting a tattoo across my chest that says, “Coffee is my life.”

If I get dressed and put on makeup I’m going to go somewhere. Even if it’s the post office or the hardware store, I need witnesses. I got dressed and wore clothes today. You’re welcome. Also, next time you see a mom who is clothed and makeup-ed, take a moment to appreciate it. Maybe offer to take her picture and post it on Instagram #hottie. She meant to get out of the house at 9am and it’s 3:45. She needs the affirmation.

Kid food is the best. There is one reason I stoop to the level of chicken nuggets “for the kids”. That one reason is so I can accidentally eat fifteen of them. Why are the SO GOOD?? Okay, so I don’t buy all these things all the time (don’t judge), but let’s be real. HOW epic is macaroni and cheese? Enough said.

It is real. I have lost my mind to mom-brain. My friend forgot her name one time when she went to sign a receipt. It takes me ten minutes to remember my kids’ birth years and it involves a lot of counting. When people ask what I’ve been up to, I stare at them blankly until they’re uncomfortable. I’m not trying to hypnotize them…I’m trying to recall my week, and yeah, I got nothin’.

Socks are my nemesis. Where are they? It doesn’t matter how many I buy. And I’m long past “matching”.  Mismatched socks is like a thing in our house, but when I’m bargaining with my eight year old boy to “just see” if his four year old sister’s socks will fit…things have gotten desperate. Hi, I’d like a subscription to a 100 new pairs of socks per month. One size fits all for ages 2-30. Thank you.

Time-outs are for me. Obviously. I would think this would be a given, but you never know. Time outs are for me to sneak chocolate and watching a couple YouTube videos with adult language. Also, bonus, they come out with better attitudes and so do I.

I am that mom. When a group of kids is walking down the center of the road, it’s no longer adequate to wait until they notice me and slowly maneuver around them. This calls for a pull-over discussion about the best ways to stay alive. When there are some supervision-less children dropping the F-bomb and  twenty pound rocks off the dock near other kids heads? No problem. A mom-lecture is needed and I can deliver. It’s like a new specialty of mine.

I like my job. Dear Stranger who is so thankful to not live my life, you seem to think I got coerced into spending my time with small children. It may shock you to know that my husband doesn’t lock me in my house each day. I hang out with these little people on purpose. I might not always be a stay at home mom, but for now, I CHOSE this.

They are “busy”, but they’re also precious and hilarious. Exhausted as I may be…I’m exhausted in a pretty wonderful way.

What confession can you relate to the most?…or share one of your own!

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**Some of you have asked where I got the awesome T, I bought it here: jumpingjackjack  on Etsy.