I'm Not Competing With You

I can't tell you how many times I've been running errands, in soccer shorts, a messy bun, some old shirt, and Nike's and have had women throw dirty looks my way. This, especially happens, when I have my kids with me. It even happens from other moms, while their kids are acting like angels and my kids decide to go rogue! And I'm just over it. 

We're all doing the best we can here, people. Maybe you're a woman who doesn't have kids yet and you have all the time in the world to take a leisurely shower, blow dry your hair (I remember those days), put on a full face of make up and sit in your closet, while picking out an outfit. You look great! Every day! And a teensie part of me wishes I could do that, but I can't. 

When I see you in the grocery store, I think, "Wow, she looks nice." I don't glare at you and hope a bottle of Tapatio spills all over your white pants. I complete, not compete. So when you see me, zipping through the aisles, singing weird songs to my kids, to keep them distracted from the fact that we're passing by the candy aisle, and trying desperately to avoid any kind of melt down, but especially the kind with screams that make the whole store stare at us, with a little bit of spit up and God knows what else dried up on my shirt, chipped nails, tired eyes, and a frazzled look on my face...instead of throwing a dirty look my way, can you just force a smile? I'll smile back and it will be a nice moment in time. Plus, you look prettier with a smile, rather than a judgmental wrinkle on your forehead. 

We might not all look the prettiest running around town, but we're all the same, so quit judging if we aren't looking as pretty as you in aisle 9. 

Most days I look like this...

 But if I had time and cared, I could look like this...

Would you treat these two girls the same? I hope so! 

The whole point is, I'm not competing with you. Or anyone for that matter. I don't ever feel better than anyone or less than anyone. We're all just people. I don't care if you drive a fancier car than I do, or ride a bicycle. I don't care if you're carrying a designer bag or a brown paper sack. I don't care what you're wearing, how old you are, how old you look, if you brushed your hair, or if you seem grumpy; I will approach you the same way I approach anyone and that's kindly. Be nice.