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You Didn't End World Hunger, But That's OK

When we look at our kids, even on the hard days, the days where everyone ends up crying because someone or all of us were assholes to each other, our kids are the greatest gifts of all. Even with the crying, the whining, the annoying fucking sounds, you look at that child, the light in their eyes, the love on their face. Ok, yes, this is totally worth it!

They are our gift. They spark so much damn joy in your heart and twitching in your eye.

Sparks Joy Little Punks, Kids Graphic Tees

They can do no wrong... well, no ultimate harm. Leaving Legos laying around the house isn't ultimate harm, but it's pretty damn close. 

They don't have that cruelty in their hearts yet. 

Today, I read an article, posted on a blog, shared into a Barfbook group for moms. It got me thinking... The mom shared it because she felt like she wasn't happy enough with her life. That she doesn't do enough. Just being here isn't anything special. And I realized I think that about myself every single day too. I'm no one special. I don't have anything to offer anyone. What is this life even about?

So I scroll through Barfbook memories... Looking at all the smiles, the joy, the happiness in the photos. Then I read the posts, the sadness mixed in with the regular everyday, ordinary blah life moments. The parenting fails and the parenting successes are sprinkled in with photos and videos of the dumb shit we do with our minions. I realized also that the looks on the faces in those photos, our children think we are the greatest gifts. But WHY do we not see this about ourselves? Instead, we thrash ourselves endlessly about what we could've done instead. The things we didn't do could've made our life better... but what if they didn't, what if they only added more stress and created more mom guilt.

We watch as neighbor lady Cindy posts on Barfbook about how she saved the world, baked 6 dozen cookies, meal prepped for the whole week, satisfied her husband, and still got her workout in and dropped her last remaining weight to hit her goal weight and it's only 8 A.M. Monday morning.

That's awesome Cindy! Way to fucking go!

I mean IT IS AWESOME, right?

We aren't going to tear Cindy down. We are going to cheer Cindy on. Because women need to be kinder to each other. 

And then the comparison kicks in... the thoughts start filling our brain "all I did today was barely get dressed, I managed to put my pants on, get my kids on the school bus in a panic and get 1 load of laundry done, maybe. Who the fuck knows what dinner will be?"

What we didn't see from Cindy, is all of the SHIT Cindy felt when she was getting it done. We did NOT see all of the behind the scenes. We don't know what thoughts, screaming, piles of other crap on top of Cindy's plate were going on. Cindy might be on the verge. I hope that Cindy is fucking happy! We don't know who is truly happy and who is ready to end it all.

Momma, if you are here, if your kids are fed, if so many other things... you are special and you are enough. You are a gift. You have something to offer. You are giving it to your kids. But you need to give yourself some credit too. Cut yourself some fucking slack! 

If you are telling your children when they are sad, hurt, mad, depressed, or crushed, that they are a gift, they are special, they are amazing. Even if your kid isn't saying that to you, I can guarantee they are thinking it about you, they just don't have the words to articulate it.

So start telling yourself the same damn thing. Look in the mirror and stop hating yourself. Look in the mirror and love those stupid laugh wrinkles that formed over time while experiencing the good with the bad.

You are Perfectly Flawed, and I like you just the way you are!

If all you can manage on some of the days is putting on pants, that is enough. Your kids are going to love you. You better start loving yourself too.

Say it with me "I AM ENOUGH!"

Say it with me "I don't have to end world hunger!"

Say it with me "I have something to offer!"

Say it with me "I am fucking amazing!"

Say it with me "Now eat your damn dinner child!" 

With love, Naomi aka The Perfectly Flawed Badass Fashion Freak

 The Perfectly Flawed Badass Fashion Freak

Kinda Punk Rock Kinda Soccer MomYou are still punk rock, you're also soccer mom now.

PS I don't have a neighbor lady named Cindy.



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