I ran into another mormon mom at JoAnn's today and I remembered: This is why I have so few friends. Other women make me feel like a loser. She had 3 kids with her-- 4 year old twins and a 2 year old. All 2 years and 3 months apart, apparently. Perfectly coiffed, hairbows in place, outfits clean, and she was like 7ish months pregnant,, dressed cute with hair done and requisite overpriced stroller and just chilling while her kids stood next to her in line behind us. I, on the other hand, was looking like the picture above. Hair leftover from yesterday, skinny jeans, plaid shirt, gap vest and keen slip ons. An outfit that I threw on as the girls screamed downstairs after I spent the better part of the morning in my pj's attempting to put the laundry away before I had to start washing it all over again: wrinkly, not a shred of makeup and a slightly runny nose. The bottom of my beat up stroller is filled with goldfish, raisins and old baby wipes. My children, who had just finished rolling around on the floor instead of dancing at dance class were wearing their dancing outfits, complete with asphalt stains and a hole in the knee. They had wild flyaways coming off their buns, and poor Annie, who wouldn't let me get near her with a brush this morning, was screaming her head off in the stroller, "i want to walk! I WANT TO WALK!" They ran in and out of all the empty registers spreading my purchases around for good measure.Evey has some sweet moves. She and Anna insist upon listening to Lady Gaga for all their best moves. (Before this, they were dancing to Usher. Wow. They have interesting taste thanks to Pandora Radio.) Notice the crazy hair that the ponytails have been pulled out of, and the diaper sagging to the knees. Very chic. She is facing the window and watching her own reflection while she dances. And yes, I know dancing on the table is dangerous. My kids like to live on the edge. They constantly mock my attempts to keep them fed, clothed and alive. But they can dance.
