What I Want You To Know About Me

It’s one of my biggest fears in writing this blog that people will get entirely the wrong impression of me. 

I know when I first started blogging and dreamed of becoming a writer on the “big” sites like Babble, I had this vision of what those writers’ lives must be like.

I bet they are always stylishly dressed, always sipping fresh, delicious coffee, I would think. They are always engaged and thinking deep thoughts on current, important topics and they never yell at their husbands for no reason when he comes home just because they are tired and grumpy. 

I did an event for Baby ECOS this past week in Chicago and I literally cringed when the brand representative read my bio out loud. She casually tossed of resume creds like “The Huffington Post” and “Good Morning America” and it took every ounce of restraint to stand there with an embarrassed smile, because OMG, I am not as cool as that little piece of paper made me sound.

Trust me, I’m under no impression that anyone who reads this blog is spending their time thinking about how great I am. In fact, when I got home from the event, I had to laugh when I looked up most of the other bloggers in attendance and found that all of them had way more followers and what not than me.

But I do worry that any mom who blogs or writes or does any kind of public job out there presents an image under false pretenses.

Take for instance, this photo I posted on Instagram:

Which I captioned: “So Sara spit up exorcist style all over me minutes before I have my @ecosbaby speech this morning. #mycrazylifemoments #disneybaby #ismellgross #realmommoment”

This is the moment I chose to display to the world, from which I have just told you the following things: 

Look at me, I’m an important career woman who gives speeches! 

Look at me, I bring my baby to work like a boss!

Look at me, my baby spit up all over me, but instead of showing you the real spit-up, I’m showing off that the spit-up crusted in my hair and kept my curl, isn’t that so cute and funny? 

What I didn’t show you, of course, was how disgusting it really was–the spit-up was like a geyser that shot towards the ceiling and coated both of us, horrifying the hapless store clerk who happened to witness it.

What I didn’t show you, of course, was my sprint to my sister-in-law, who came with me on the trip precisely to help me (aha! the secret of a mom who “does it all”) and how I was close to tears as we stripped her down and scrubbed her with a pound of wet wipes right in front of everyone.

What I didn’t show you, of course, was how ill-fitting that dress actually was from the neck down, because let’s face it, I am not someone who gives birth and actually loses the baby belly. Mine tends to stick around for the long haul. (We’re quite fond of each other after all these years together…)

What I am not showing you, right now, in fact, is that my baby is up and crying, my son has no pants on, and although I managed to get dressed today, the buttons on my dress are popping off and I traded off cleaning the kitchen to do my hair because it made me feel better.

The point of this long and rambling post, my friends, is that things are not always as they appear. I try to be as honest and truthful about motherhood as I can, but when it comes right down to it, I’m just another mom trying to make a living by doing something that I love.

I would like to close with a snappy ending, as is my imagined trademark, but the baby really is crying, so I’m going to stop you telling how uncool I am in real life and go pick up my baby in my ill-fitting outfit and get back to real life, where my kids definitely know how uncool I am.

Thanks for reading.