honest toddler times.

Friends. I think this week I officially joined the 'mom of toddlers' club. I was christened in the middle of the pasta aisle in Walmart when Lucas threw his first public holier-than-thou FIT.  My 19 month old little sweetheart showed his downright sinful side after I took away his pumpkin basket after he started using it as a ball and launching it.  Insert: immediate tears, flailing, kicking, screaming, and stares from strangers.  All of my crisis-averting tactics failed miserably and the only way to stop the dying child was to open up a bag of pretzels in the middle of the store and let him eat.

And you know, as frustrated as I was with him and this stage of development and motherhood, I got even more frustrated with myself.  In the middle of this epic meltdown, my insecurities bubbled over as I looked around at the other moms who had it together with their perfectly obedient children and showered bodies and made up faces and combed hair.  {Because of these things, I had nothing. Not even the showered body.} And I got angry and jealous and embarrassed and even more frustrated.  I contemplated leaving the cart full of groceries and taking my screaming child out of the store as quickly as possible, because the thought of finishing our grocery trip was all too overwhelming at this point.  After realizing that was ridiculous, I honestly thought, "how mad would Brandon be if I called him at work and asked him to come and save me from this? Just take the kid, I'll finish the shopping, load the car, and we'll be on our way."  No no no.  Also ridiculous.  So we opened up the pretzels, wiped away the tears (his and mine), and continued on. 

Why does it have to be like this? Why do I compare myself as a mom to those around me? To the beautiful blonde mom with her perfectly quiet daughter sitting in the cart, why do I feel like I need to judge myself based on how you and your situation appear to be?  That's crazy.  You see, we live in a world of these Pinterest wives.  They appear to have it all together all the time, having time to cook and craft and decorate and read and create and primp and style and be the perfect wife and the perfect mother.  And then there's me, just trying to buy some groceries on my day off without any drama.  I find myself assuming that women like the one witnessing our escapade in the pasta aisle have it all together.  And that's when I have to step back and remind myself that I am human and I am loved and I am blessed and I don't have to have it all together because I am the daughter of a King. 

I have to be reminded that these are hard times and motherhood is hard and I'm doing the best that I can.  I need to look past the Pinterest wives of America because they are not perfect.  They just look good in the midst of their messes.  Motherhood is an exclusive club, and we have to have each other's backs.

So when my life might look like this:

 All I can do is remember how blessed I am to be the mom to this wild boy, say a prayer, and remember this too shall pass.