I remember it vividly.  I was in high school.  I was at a restaurant with my boyfriend (now husband), best friend, and HER boyfriend. My best friend and I got up to go to the bathroom.  Together, of course. We passed by a table with a family…mom, dad, and a few kids.  The mom looked….rough. In hindsight, I bet she was the age I am NOW, but she seemed soooooo old.  She looked tired. Haggard. Exasperated with her kids. BEDRAGGLED. I remember she had on pants that my friend and I….snotty as we were in all our 17-year old, wrinkle-free, flat-bellied, fresh-faced, flawless perfection…deemed “gross”. I remember saying that. “Why would she wear those pants out in public? They look like pajama pants!” Dear Lord. Such a bratty little sinner I was (and still am). I remember all this so vividly, because afterwards, as my friend and I continued on to the bathroom, we both said, “when we are moms…NEVER will we look like that. We will be CUTE.  We will be dressed to impress still.  We will look HAPPY to be moms. We WILL be happy to be moms”.

Fast forward about 8 years later. Married now, but still no kids. No knowledge whatsoever of what it was like to be a mother, but definitely full of opinions and judgements. I remember being at the pool. Laying out…you know, in my not QUITE as perfect, but still close to it, wrinkle-free, flat-bellied, (semi) fresh-faced, (almost) perfection, and watching a mom with her kids in the pool. The kids just seemed to be WEARING HER OUT. They wanted her to watch every trick they were doing. They seemed plenty cute to me, but she seemed…bored. A bit annoyed. Worn out. BEDRAGGLED. And I thought, “when I am a mom one day, first of all, I will make sure to stay in really good shape, so I will  look cute in my bathing suit when I am at the pool with my kids. And secondly, I will ENJOY watching my sweet little angels do all of their tricks, and I will be visibly DELIGHTED. Why did she even choose to have kids in the first place, if she’s just going to seem all miserable about it?”. Eeeek.

Fast forward 9 years later….which puts us at about 3 days ago. I was walking  waddling into the YMCA to workout shuffle along on the treadmill at an unimaginably slow pace, mostly just because I wanted to watch a movie in the cold, dark, cardio theater. 9 months pregnant.  6 year old and 2 year old in tow. I passed another mom who was coming OUT of the gym, with her two kids, who seemed similar in age to mine. I made eye contact, and smiled.  She didn’t smile back. I don’t think she really even saw me. She was distracted…snapping at her kids to hurry up, chasing after the little one who was running the opposite way, trying to juggle her gym bag, and probably 5 other items, belonging to the kids. She looked tired. She didn’t have on cute gym attire. She DID have on (what I would suspect) was yesterday’s smeared mascara. She looked… BEDRAGGLED. She did NOT look like she was enjoying her children, or motherhood at all, for that matter. And I felt that familiar judgement coming on “come ON.  Chin up, lady! Are your kids really THAT bad? Can you just at least PRETEND to like them, and not act so irritated by them? Maybe just wipe off the old mascara a LITTLE bit? Do you have to make motherhood look so miserable??” And then. And THEN. It hit me.  I LOOK BEDRAGGLED TOO!!! In fact, I AM bedraggled. If I didn’t look it right that moment, I did 10 minutes ago. Or I will later this afternoon. Or tomorrow morning. Me, who has been walking around with pool hair since June 1. Me who is 9 months pregnant. Me who has puffy eyes, because my 6 year old, who has been able to stay dry during the night for months now, is all the sudden wetting his bed in the middle of the night again, and waking me up, from an already restless and unsatisfying “last trimester” slumber. Me, who just moments ago,  sighed and rolled my eyes in frustration because my kids wanted to stop and look at the ducks, and I just wanted, for once, to not take 20 minutes to walk from the car to the gym. Me who has developed MANY more wrinkles in MANY more places in the 17 years since I judged that mom at the restaurant.

But here is the thing that I know about myself, that the casual observer wouldn’t know. And I have a sneaking suspicion it is true of the mom at the gym, the mom at the pool, and the mom at the restaurant. I am fully aware (when I’m not forgetting) that being a mother to my three children is the BEST thing in all the world. The very best.  Maybe you saw me looking miserable and annoyed and tired and frustrated a minute ago, but you didn’t see me TEN minutes ago, when I was smothering my two year old’s face in kisses as I carried him through the parking lot. Maybe you caught me in a moment where I’d seen my 6 year old show me his HUNDREDTH “ninja jump” into the pool, and I didn’t seem all that impressed anymore, but you didn’t see me yesterday when he decided, without me even telling him he had to, to give half of his cookie to his little brother, and my eyes welled up with tears of pride, and hugged him so long he eventually wriggled away.  Maybe I look like total crap with my pool hair and maternity clothes right now, but guess what? I can still look cute sometimes  when I want to, and actually, I CHOSE to have the pool hair, because my kids like me to swim with them, and how fun is the mom who timidly gets in the pool, but refuses to ever get her hair wet? Not very.

So here is a PSA to two different groups of people:

1) To Those of You Who Aren’t Mom’s Yet:

Don’t be scared off by how miserable we moms sometimes look. We aren’t miserable. I promise. We love being mothers, and we are FULLY aware of how infinitely precious our children are. They are the light of our lives, our pride and joy, and the very best parts of our day. Yes, they wear us out, and they annoy us, and they make us not as pretty as we once were, but they are SO. VERY. WORTH. IT. Being a mom is the best thing ever, and please don’t let our sometimes sour attitudes and sour faces turn you off. I assure you, there are many, many sweet, tender, and amazing moments in between.

2) To The Mom Who Is Judging Other Moms:

Stop. Almost every negative thing you are observing in “that other mom” is almost certainly something someone else has observed in YOU. We are all bedraggled. Let’s just be bedraggled together, and instead of judging, try to encourage, help, and lift each other up. Celebrate your bedraggledness.

And remember..what you are doing is a million times more valuable, beautiful, and important than anything that the skinny, wretched little 17 year old in her shorts shorts is doing, I can guarantee you that 🙂