We were at a Major League Soccer game the other night. Like, we got a sitter for the kids even. It was oddly relaxing and anxious at the same time being away from them but we were out for a much needed date night.

In front of us was another couple with a young daughter. She made a soccer ball sign to wave during the game that made her about the cutest cheerleader there was.

Part way through the game the mom came back to her seat with a gyro that looked really good. As she was eating it it took everything in me not to leap across the folded chairs to wipe the mayonnaise off her cheek. Two more passionate bites went by and still the mayo. Taunting me all perched there on her cheek.

Finally her husband grabbed a napkin and as he was leaning in to pass it to her I watched her lips say “I can feel it.”

Dude. If you could feel it why did you leave it on your face so long for the rest of us to have to deal with?!

And then I realized why. She was a mom. It was for the same reason why I never changed jeans after my baby projectile vomited and my right leg was caught in the fire. It was for the same reason why I greeted the construction crew in our basement half bath the other day with residual eyeliner smeared around my eye socket on my otherwise cleanly showered self. It was for the same reason why after wearing a pair of high heels to a wedding the other day I grew a third big toe-of-a-blister. And it’s for the same reason why I’ll often venture out into the bright day to get the mail without first properly securing the ladies in a brasier.

I’m a mom. It’s not that I’m lazy or that I enjoy presenting myself as the scum of the Earth. It’s just that my focus has shifted from me to being a caregiver. That’s not to say that moms who don’t look like scum care more about themselves than their duties as caregivers. Those moms are typically the ones who have very low “lows” on the weekends 🙂 🙂 🙂 We are all alike. The struggles are indeed real!

You care a lot less about mayo on your face when you actually have a handful of minutes to scarf down a meal while your toddler is occupied to fill the void your stomach has been warning you about ever since you decided to just eat the discarded food from your kid’s plate instead of making your own plate.

You care a lot less about vomit on your jeans when you’re just glad that your sick baby finally fallen asleep for the time being as you sit in urgent care.

You care a lot less about people seeing you without make up on when you’re the task manager for the household from the minute your callused feet and flakey polished toes hit the ground in the morning until you drag your half dead body to bed at night — laundry, dishes, cleaning, errands, meals, naps, cuddles, playtime, etc.

You care a lot less about wearing hip high heels (yes, I said ‘hip’…if there was any doubt that I’m a mom, doubt be gone) when you have a toddler to chase, a baby to bounce, and a tooooonnnnnnsssss of crap to lug around.

And you care a lot less about not wearing a bra in public when…actually…I can’t think of an excuse for that…I’ll probably try to stop that.

So the next time I see a mom with suspicious substances on her clothes, greasy hair, or half of her meal stuck to her face, instead of my first thoughts being critical of her, I’m going to just stop and do the slow clap. Because every mom deserves a slow clap!

[clap…..…..clap..….clap.…clap..clap.clap]