Squats & Margaritas

I was that mom.

Today, I was 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 mom.

You know the one. You’ve judged her- that mom on her phone, completely disengaged and unaware of her children’s endless requests to “watch 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨!”

I was her. She was me. We were one.

You see, we’re on the second day of an out-of-state move with my 3 and 5 year-old and while my husband went to clean out the rest of the trash at our old house, I took our kids to the hotel pool. . .

and then I sat on a lawnchair and mindlessly sipped from my Chick-fil-A cup, brimming with vodka. I looked at my phone and not at my kids- the kids who have been whining and throwing shit at me for hours. My son, who mere minutes ago came barreling across the room at me, straight linebacker -style and knocked me into a wall while I was crouched down looking for something in his suitcase, pleads for me to come in the pool.

No. I sat. Alone. I took a fucking momaste’ that was beyond necessary after weeks of organizing, arranging, hauling, making calls to disconnect and connect and enroll, and supervising all of humanity and Tetris’ing an SUV.

I took a break.

I was that woman that I would’ve been disgusted by- “Jesus, your kids are begging for your attention. Get off your phone. You’re a mom,” I would’ve yelled at her silently.

I was her today. And I will never, ever judge another unengaged mother again.

You have no idea what another mom is going through or what her day has been like.

Stop judging that other mom.

Give her grace.

Sip your own vodka and carry on.