Suburban Oblivion

My husband told me last night

“After sucking in air, you are kind of fat and floaty.”

Can anyone guess what he was talking about?

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I’m so sorry, but it has got to be said.

Enough with the hot pink pedicure already!

I don’t know what fashionista out there decreed that henceforth all toenails should be a shade of pink that would make even the Brat Pack cringe, but I’m telling you, it’s not working. Hot pink is a color very few people can pull off, and it being on your feet does not make it any less so.

Please, please, put down the Strawberry Fields OPI and back away slowly.

Or not so much.

Ever notice how there seem to be two kind of moms in every group? There are the ones who take this hugely optimistic view on everything- life is wonderful, their kids are wonderful, their husbands are wonderful, everything is just so. damn. wonderful! Then there are the rest of us. The ones who are a little quicker to admit that life, and motherhood in particular, has more ups and downs than anything Six Flags has to offer. We talk about it, we blog about it, and we do not put up the pretense that life is always perfect.

Heck, maybe their lives really are that perfect. Maybe they’ve made the right choice every step of the way, and the rest of us are just a bunch of fuckups fumbling our way through like a blind man in a dark room. If that’s the case, I envy them.

I suspect it’s not though. To err is human, and none of us are exempt from that. To put up this facade that you never have any problems is to do an injustice to every woman out there who doubts herself and questions her choices. We all do it, everyone has doubts. I understand not airing dirty laundry, and I respect that. But to never show more than one dimension of your life robs you and those around you of the experience of the real person within, flaws and all.