A Letter to the Perfect Moms

A Letter to the Perfect Moms


You people are wearing me out. Not just me, but all of us, as in all the moms out there who just tell it like it is. It’s called being real and honest and yes, the truth really does set you freeand the lot of us? Well, we have conceded defeat. Have I piqued your interest? Can I convince you to cross over to the other side? Please, lay down your social magic wands and join us.

Don’t act all innocent, you know very well of your trickery. Those perfect photos, the mouths open in laughter, smartly coifed children, all of you a picture of happiness, amongst those sand dunes. You’re not fooling anyone, we know that there was tyrannical complaining, crying, and pleas for help because starched clothes and sand are an itchy combination, not to mention the scorching sun slowly melting your family. You can’t fool the sisterhood you’ve abandoned.

And if pretend magazine shoots in the summer or at Christmas aren’t enough, you also bombard us with your soliloquies of the idyllic life. We should ignore them, keep scrolling, block you perhaps, but we are gluttons. You may as well know, we screenshot those blips of insanity and send it to our favorite sloppy friends. Traveling, muffin making, grocery shopping, children accomplishing chores, happy and wonderful times, not one mealy apple at your shiny house.

The jig is up and we cry foul. You are a formidable group, but we are up to the challenge and come in peace. Just let down your guard a little bit? We are all being sucked dry by tiny humans, yet you insist on starring in the Sound of Music. And to what end? No rewards, no medals, no cash prize, not even a certificate with your name in calligraphy. Nothing, not one iota of praise unless you count a kind word or two on your tombstone.

Meanwhile, members of the sisterhood are dropping like flies, becoming second guessing, nail biting and wine guzzling disasters, trying to keep up and destined for failure. None are perfect and no matter how good one is at pretending, the tides of real life find us all and you don’t want to be left all alone.

I mean, life is hard enough and none of us will escape it’s journey. I’m telling you, real life means illness or a baby that you didn’t order or maybe the baby never showed up and neither did the marriage. Perhaps you have parents that will need you too soon, a husband that decided family wasn’t his cup of tea, or that job you loved, well, maybe it no longer loves you.

You see, being perfect just makes things harder. We want you on our team, it’s strictly a volunteer position- there’s no pay, the hours suck, and you have to share your heart and wear it on your sleeve. You shall be rewarded with the kind of joy you have never known and life, regardless of its realness, will be better than you knew possible. Real trumps perfect every time. We need you.


The Real Moms

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