Your newborn son is super handsome. So handsome in fact that I can't even remember what your toddler looks like. Your husband I'm sure is pretty handsome too, since he married you. What I remember about our encounter, is that you all should have been on the cover of a very chic baby magazine. You in your flowing maxi dress, beachy waves down your back, and flawless skin. I'm sure you had on zero make-up.
What I also remember was the look on your face. A scowl. When my mom and I complimented your handsome little man, (he's what maybe 3 months) you just stared at us. No smile. No thank you. Just a blank stare. Then when you gave me that glance as I was blocking the Oreos, with my crazy cakes kiddos, I thought "what a bitch". I get it. You're beautiful. You are too beautiful in fact to shop at Target. I'm sorry. I'm sorry we were in your beautiful way.
Even my mom, the patron saint of kindness, said "What a bitch".
Then later, as I loaded my car, I remembered.
I remembered the most important rule of motherhood.
I have no idea what's happening in your house.
I bet that beautiful little man, who seems sweet and angelic in Target, is keeping you up all hours of the night. Maybe your boobies didn't work either and it has totally crushed your mama spirit. Possibly your toddler who made no noise at Target, turns into the Incredible Hulk when you step through your front door. And perhaps, you looked so strikingly beautiful today, because it was your first shower of the week.
If that's the case then I'm truly sorry. I get it. I've been there. Ok, so not quite as beautiful, but I remember those days. I'm sorry I judged. I'm sorry if you are tired, cranky, and totally over "motherhood is bliss". I get it.
Just remember, that it all goes so fast. That little mr. handsome, will soon be crawling, then walking, and then starting school. And then you will long for those long, lonely nights where it was just the two of you, trying to figure it out. I don't miss those nights much, but once in a while I wish I had my little all to myself, without her telling me she has Barbies to play with, and better things to do.
So, beautiful Momma at Target, I hope to see you some day soon, with your model like family, with a huge smile on your face. Or maybe on the cover of a magazine.
I just wanted to add that Post Partum Depression is no joke.
It is very real.
If you are in a fog, feel helpless, or are just stuck,
please contact someone.
Heck, contact me!
My email is firstname.lastname@example.org.
Anytime you want to talk or vent, send an email.
I totally understand.
I've been there, and even though I didn't want to admit it,
I needed help.
All great mothers ask for help.