A Tale of Two Moms

Oh summer… how I love/loathe thee. The frantic panic of figuring out what the hell to do with my kids for the next two+ months, starkly contrasting my love of lazy mornings and late, pool-soaked evenings.

Summer always stresses me out, no matter how many camps I have or have not booked. There’s unreasonable, Instagram-fueled pressure to have a “magical” season with the kids — to take postcard perfect beach vacations and pack picnics for the park. To feed the ducks, ride ponies and splash in crystal-clear lakes. To do arts and crafts until your fingers bleed and visit a farm. Because why not. It’s summer — surely you will visit a farm at some point.

Then there’s the reality of broiling hot days in Texas and the constant echoes of my children screaming “I’m bored” on repeat after they finish wrestling each other for the remote for the 60th time in one day.

Recently I had the brilliant idea of taking them to the grocery store. Who doesn’t love taking two wriggly boys who only love foods containing Red No. 40 to the grocery store? Psychos, that’s who.

As I was entering the megalith of a grocery store — ’tis Texas afterall — in my ratty cut offs, stretched-out, stained tee, with two kids playing frogger in the parking lot— I heard, “Oh hey Rose!”

Must be another Rose. I see no one. I hear no one.

But she was right there. With cute preppy, pink shorts and an on-trend billowy blouse with pink trim that perfectly matched the shorts and a full face of makeup, but not in an over-done way. In the perfectly, subtle, flawless way that made her look 25. I think she’d even washed and dried her hair that morning. It was 9am. Who is up before 9am showering? I can tell you who’s NOT up showering.

“Oh hey, Liv!” I blurt, feigning excitement. “Don’t you just love summer?” I say in my move sarcastic tone as I motion to the frogger-playing boys at my side.

“Actually yes, I do!” she squealed. “It’s my absolute favorite!”

I stared, bewildered and then said, “Really?”

“It’s just so fun watching my boys play and seeing how creative they get. I really love relaxing in the mornings and playing family games past 8 each night!”

“Yeah, totally. It’s just the best.” I say, unable to mask my dejection.

We chatted about unhealthy eating habits (she doesn’t have any) and screen-time restrictions (not an issue in her house) as my kids pulled at me to enter the store and find the reddest foods it offers.

I glanced at her cart. Watermelon, Honest-brand juice boxes, broccoli, and pita chips poke out of one bag. Another contains what looks like a bundle of kale and some sort of whole grain loaf.

After I mentioned something about my kids begging for Kool-aid, she excused herself with a look of unmistakable pity.

“Great seeing you too.”

I couldn’t help but feel inferior. She was not putting me on. This mom genuinely loves summer and is doing all those things you see on Instagram to make it magical for her kids.

She is Instagram and I suck at life. That’s the only takeaway.

My honey-badger-like children and I made our way through the gargantuan store with five meltdowns, six cases of Prime sports drinks, Cheetos, Oreos and some beer. I’ll call that a success.

When we got home, my seven year old realized we hadn’t gotten the Fruity Pebbles I’d promised them. What a rotten excuse of a mother am I?

I waited until after lunch and then we raced off to the next exciting destination of the day — Target.

We survived another harrowing journey through the parking lot and made our way inside. Starbucks was beckoning so I beelined it and promised them cake pops so they’d let me get my fourth cup o’ Joe of the day.

There in front of me, was a mom and her three kids, all wearing matching pajamas. One of her kids was having an epic meltdown, so I tried my go-to line again. “Don’t you just love summer?”

She looked at me and cracked up. “Yep, it’s just the best. Love every minute. It’s 2pm and we’re all in pajamas.”

“Hey at least they match. Y’all get like 30 points for that in my book.”

She laughed and we exchanged relatable horror stories of summer and how we plan to survive with Starbucks and Target runs just to kill time. She pleaded with me not to judge her the next time I see her in pajamas. I reassured her I wouldn’t, as long as they all matched. She laughed.

Her kids were fisting chocolate milk and cake pops and I felt hopeful. I am not a horrible mom after all! I am just one of those mortal moms.

The kind who doesn’t put on a full face of makeup before venturing out. The kind who doesn’t match my top to my shorts. The kind who buys all the garbage at the grocery store to placate my kids.

The kind who does not love every minute of summer.

I know there are more of us out there and damn it all to hell, I will find them in their PJs at Target and I’ll high-five every single last one of them as we drink mochachino lattes with extra whip and give our kids Kool-aid and cake pops.

This is how us mortals summer.