So, I'm biting the bullet and writing, despite how silly and exposing it feels.
And I sit at the computer with my mind completely blank and unable to figure out what to write about. Then, I look at this amazing picture my brother took of Darla and I in the water. The moment looks so fresh and carefree. We're having the time of our lives. You wouldn't guess that Darla was stomping around in murky water or that I was hot and stressed about whether or not I had put enough sunblock on her. In that moment, I felt that I looked like a frazzled mom. In reality, that seems to have all been in my head. When I think about that moment that she marched into that water fully clothed, I know I was happy and that I looked happy. I didn't look as confused, overwhelmed and exhausted as I thought I did. (But that's not to say that I didn't pass out very early that night from a very confusing, overwhelming and exhausting day. I'm learning to accept that those emotions will be felt almost daily).
I think about what another mom might think when she sees this picture and I bet someone might feel like our lives are full of spontaneous beach visits and calm moments at the beach. I feel comforted that maybe someone out there might look at me and think, "she's got it figured out." I won't bother telling her about the Sh*tsplosion Darla had on our way back to Los Angeles from San Diego. Nor will I mention that she was covered from head to toe in her poo, which she had managed to do in the five minutes it took to get off the freeway. Or that I didn't have any wipes so I had to use clothes I was going to donate to wipe up as much as I could before bringing her into the gas station bathroom for a "trucker's bath." I will keep up the illusion that the day was full of sunshine, laughter and waves.
|A moment of calm before she wriggled out of my arms.|
|She reminds me of a cute old woman in this one.|
|She's about to run off.|
|She pulled the hat over her face and started walking into walls.|