A+ Momma

Rolled out of bed this morning. Put on a tee shirt. Squeezed into jeans, tucking the tummy in before buttoning. Left the slept-in mom bun. Made breakfast for eight. Eggs. Bacon. Red Potatoes. Diced tomatoes, onions, peppers and jalapenos. Topped with cheese. Rolled in tortillas. Half of them groaned. Okay, all but my husband groaned. Too hot. Not enough time to eat. It's gross. It looks "gucky." Out came the frozen toaster waffles. Set plates on the floor for two spoiled lapdogs. Three boys wished well for a good day at school. Kissed my husband. Smacked him on his ass. Three sack lunches grabbed. Check. Husband's lunch grabbed. Check. Sweatshirts. Check. Waved goodbye and gave more well wishes as they headed to the driveway and piled in the car. Checked homework for the eleven-year-old. Reminded him to put on a sweatshirt. Gave him a kiss and wished him well on his way to school. Gathered cash for the seven-year-old's lunch. Made sure he wasn't still commando. He was. Directed him to find underwear in the pile of unfolded clean laundry. Directed him to tooth-brushing. Reminded him he needs to wear socks before putting on shoes. Too scared to go to the basement by himself, I went to find him socks. The sock monster had eaten all of the matches to his socks, so I handed him one red and one orange sock because it's close enough. Homework? Not completed. Pencil found. We rushed through homework one-on-one while the toddler was entertained by mermaid cartoons on Netflix and covering herself in stickers. Potty-time for the toddler. Check. Cheers and hugs for the toddler. Shoes on the toddler. Coat on the toddler. Brushed the toddler's hair. Brushed the toddler's teeth. Ready? Oh, shit. My teeth. Ran a toothbrush over my teeth. Smoothed the flyaways over my ears. Laced on a pair of boots. Ran out the door. Dropped off the seven-year-old at school. Rolled down the window. Shouted, "I LOVE YOU!" Waited until I saw him go through the front doors.

Down to one. She giggled in the backseat between singing while I headed to the hardware store. Errand Time. I parked. I checked my account. I set a firm budget for myself. The toddler wanted to run through the parking lot. I reminded her that she had to hold my hand or be carried. She chose to hold hands. We celebrated her choice and walked through the electronic sliding doors of Home Depot. Oh shit, we forgot a cart. We went back for the cart and then back through the front doors again. Light switch plates. Check. Adhesive Primer. Adhesive Primer? Couldn't find the fucking adhesive primer. A nice gentleman with an orange apron offered his help. He said that they're out of the adhesive primer or they just don't carry it. He directed me to a different product, then offered to help with more. I declined, but thanked him and took his advice on the new product after carefully reading the side of the box and setting it in the cart. I passed three more employees that offered their help. I smiled and thanked them, but declined. I told my daughter, "They're sure helpful here!" I considered shopping there more instead of Lowe's. Towel holder for the upper bathroom. Check. Smiled back at two more friendly employees unpacking boxes. Wood stain. Wood stain? Pushed the cart back to the paint department. Check. I moved to the front and found an open register without a line and stacked my items on the counter while reminding my toddler repeatedly to sit down on her bottom so that she wouldn't break her head. The toddler pushed buttons on the card terminal, thus causing the sweet lady behind the counter some frustration in having to reload our purchase. My toddler, sensing the frustration, reached inside my shirt for my breast for comfort, a habit we've been working on. "Mommy's boobs, Baby." She just laughed at me though, and said in her bouncy-fairy voice, "MY boobs, Momma!" And then I felt it. My nipples erect against my shirt. I'd felt it all morning really and figured it was just due to the colder weather in the back of my head. But then it hit me. No bra. Oh, shit. I forgot my fucking bra. So there I was, standing in Home Depot, parading around in a thin, over-sized H&M V-neck with no damn bra on. My post-nursing tits just flopping around under there with the headlights on. And for a moment, I froze. I wanted to hide. Cancel the order! Run to the car while hunched over. But I didn't. Instead, I continued to smile at the nice lady with my tits hanging there in all their floppy glory and I accepted the label as "One-of-those-Moms." I took my receipt and held my head high as I walked back out into the brisk air to the car, my boobs bouncing. And I smiled back at everyone around me. I loaded the bags into the car and carefully buckled in my toddler before plopping a kiss on her head. Then I walked the cart back up to the front and strutted my mom-mess self with confidence all the way back to the car. 

I could have been ashamed, I suppose. After all, at that point, I might have sunk lower than the pajama-wearers of Wal-Mart I'd sworn I'd never stoop to. But in that moment of utter shock and embarrassment, I was faced with the reality of the situation as a whole and the embarrassment quickly faded away. Why? Well here's the deal. I woke up and fed eight people. I helped to get eight people out the door. They all left feeling loved and appreciated. They all left with full tummies, in clean clothes, with lunches and brushed teeth. If I were to add up all of my entire checklist for the day including that damn bra, well, heck, I'd only be docked one point, which would still pan out to be about a 98%, AKA as a solid A. It's all about perspective. We can't do it all. We can't always be perfect. Some days we're going to feel like Martha Stewart. Other days, we're going to feel a bit like Fiona Gallagher. And that's okay. As long as we're trying our best, our intent is positive and the people around us feel loved, then that is perfectly okay. And hey, I cheered up some Home Depot employees' days while I was at it. So I think that might equal a bit of extra credit in my favor. 

Fellow Mommas, if you're ever juggling your day-to-day duties and you find yourself in a Home Depot with your tits flying, just remember that you're not alone and you're still an A+ Momma!