I'm Not That Mom

I'm not that mom who can look pretty when I'm tired,

I'm rarely a person who showers daily.

I'm not that mom who left the hospital in my skinny jeans, 

9 months later and I'm not back in my pre-baby clothes.

I'm not that mom who runs marathons, 

Or who runs, 

Or who understands people who run. 

I'm not that mom who has organized crafts with play dates with multi-colored pasta and home-made play dough. 

Play dates are for adults to interact someone who speaks in full (coherent) sentences. 

I'm not that mom with the amazing-looking ass in my designer work out pants. 

But I do get angry when my Old Navy yoga pants are dirty and I have to leave the house (because yoga pants are okay and pajama pants clearly are not). 

I am the mom who's tired, 

Because I rocked my baby to sleep for two hours. 

I am the mom who spent months carrying a baby hours giving birth, 

My body is proof of that. 

I am the mom who carries a baby on my back, my front, and my hip when she cries for me. 

Somehow I pull the energy out of me to hold her just a little longer. 

I am the mom who plays on the floor with my daughter, reading books and tickling little legs. 

Those moments are better than some conversations I have with adults. 

I am the mom who's comfortable in my own skin. 

My ass may not be what it used to be, 

But nothing is as it used to be. 

I'm not that mom, 

And I'm just fine with the mom that I am.