I Don’t Have my S*** Together, Do You?

I want you to know when you are comparing your life with my “life” on social media, you are putting your worst up against my best.”

When looking at my Facebook page or my perfectly-posed instagram photos, you probably assume I have a handle on this mom thing. I know this because I think the same thing about you when looking at your social media pages.

I see your adorable kiddos happily doing crafts at your kitchen table on Saturday morning and your decadent dessert fresh out of the oven on a Wednesday afternoon. I see your sweaty workout photos that you manage to look absolutely gorgeous in anyway, and your fun afternoon playdates with other moms who also look like they have it all together. I see those photos and I assume that is how your life is all of the time — effortless. But when I really think about it, I know it’s not.

Just last week I posted a series of photos of Jo playing in the Chick-fil-a playplace on Instagram. We finished up our lunch date and since the playplace was completely empty, I took her in there for the very first time. It was the best part of our day, so of course I wanted to capture the moment and share it with the world. I even buttoned it up with a cheerful caption!

But that’s just it.

It was the best part of our day.

I shared with you my best. You only saw my best.

What if I would have posted about our day an hour before these photos were taken? I can tell you what — y’all would think I am a basket-case-looney who needs to toughen up.

My instagram post makes our impromptu lunch date seem whimsical and sweet. Like maybe we were sitting in our perfectly clean home reading books together before deciding we could make our day even better with delicious chicken.

HA! That is laughable.

Our impromptu lunch date was not whimsical. We ended up in that Chick-fil-a playplace out of desperation, exhaustion, and hopelessness.

An hour before we arrived, I was sitting at our kitchen table sobbing. We were in the middle of packing our condo to move and I was overwhelmed. It seemed like every time I checked something off of our to-do list, three more things were added. Boxes consumed every room, random items were strewn about, and our pantry was depleted. I was fighting a sinus infection, I hadn’t showered in at least two days, and at this point I was functioning on coffee alone.

We had been pent up in that condo for days at this point. There was so much to be done and we didn’t have time to lollygag. Not to mention, Jo was also fighting a cold, so of course she wanted to be comforted and soothed all day long. Which I was more than happy to do, but that meant leaving the to-do list to gather dust.

And on this particular day, I broke. My autopilot shut off and stress overwhelmed me. I was so tired, so hungry, and so done. I was desperate to get away from it all — even if it was for an hour.

That’s how we ended up going on an impromptu lunch date. We went into the playplace to pass more time. And like I said, it was the best part of our day.

I didn’t post about any of the other stuff that day. While I was sitting at the table wiping snot from my nose, I definitely was not thinking it would be a good photo op for insta. While Jo was crying to be held as I sat on the couch with my head in my hands trying to give myself two minutes to breathe, I didn’t pull out my phone and take a video to share with my Facebook friends.

I didn’t post about the worst parts of my day.

It’s like comparing apples and oranges — sure you can do it, but it really doesn’t make much sense.”

I wanted to share this story with you so you could peek behind the curtain. I want you to know when you are comparing your life with my “life” on social media, you are putting your worst up against my best. It’s like comparing apples and oranges — sure you can do it, but it really doesn’t make much sense.

So the next time you are scrolling through your Instagram feed and you come across a post of mine, remember that you are only seeing what is in front of the curtain.

I do not have it all together, mama. I really don’t think any of us do.

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