Words from a stranger.

I lost it. I completely lost it.

I had been putting off grocery shopping for some time now and was getting hangry (hungry + angry). Time to round up the troops and head to the store! Fun fact: every time I have to leave the house and take the circus on the road [or the grocery store], my anxiety is instantly kicked into overdrive. ‘Oh this’ll be fun. Liam will scream the whole way there while Ella, not to be outshone by anyone, will sing the entire Frozen soundtrack at full lung capacity. [Cue massive headache.] Driving down the road, trying my best to drown out the peanut gallery in the backseat, I couldn’t help but feel defeated. I did my best to wipe away the tears behind my sunglasses, and tuck the fly away frizzies from my unwashed hair into an acceptable ‘going out in public ‘do’. I sat for a minute in the lot because I didn’t even want to get out of the car. Who knew grocery shopping would be so draining, and I wasn’t even inside yet! Just as I’m about to head back home and eat ramen, my growling stomach kicks my ass out of the car. Liam gets buckled, strapped, velcroed, and tied onto my chest with the Ergo, while Ella stared at the cart choices. ‘There’s only two, just pick one! We only have 15 minutes before a major meltdown and then your brother will start his!’ I say through my teeth. Aimlessly roaming the aisles, annoyed, and frazzled, I can’t even remember what the hell I came here for and glancing in the cart, Oreo’s and brownie mix weren’t even on the list!

‘What’s wrong with me? I suck at this parenting thing. I can’t even go grocery shopping right.’ Blankly tossing items in the basket, mix and match ingredients, looking like I know exactly what I need but really have no clue. What goes good with garbanzo beans and canned asparagus?

As someone who can’t control her face, I imagine it wasn’t very hard for the mom walking towards me with her own child in tow to notice the angst and defeat that my face emitted. Honestly, my emotions were transparent enough, it’s safe to say they smacked her in the face and poked her in the eye. Fully expecting her to keep on walking past the crazy lady with a demanding baby and an impatient toddler like most people do, she instead made eye contact, smiled, and said, “you’re awesome”–and kept on walking. Completely caught off guard, I quickly returned the smile and scoffed a little in disbelief. Was she talking to me? Did she see something that I didn’t see? The only reflection I saw as I walked past the frozen food fridge door was sweet corn and a homeless looking lady who appears to have it all together, but in reality, is just trying to stay above water and blend into normal society. I didn’t have the chance to ask her why she said that, but then again, how would one even ask that without coming off like a needy freakazoid who doesn’t get out much? ‘Excuse me, Ma’am but you just gave me a compliment in front of the chicken thighs, remember? Can you please tell me over and over again how and why I’m awesome, and maybe put it in writing for when I’m hiding in the bathroom at 3am tonight, thanks! Oh, and is there anything else you want to tell me? I’m always accepting nice words of encouragement.’ Yeah, I’m glad she walked away before I could utter those words….that would have been embarrassing! But not as embarrassing as getting home and noticing I apparently sat in yogurt that morning, and walked the whole store with dried, white stuff on my ass. And here I thought people were staring at me because of my screaming kids and makeup free face. I don’t know what’s worse.

I’ll never know what was going through this fellow soldier of mines head. I’ll never see myself through her eyes in that quick exchange in front of the milk. I’ll never hear the reasons why she was able to look past frumpy and see someone “awesome”. That simple, two word sentence stuck with me that whole day. Keeping it in back of my head, even as I yelled, laughed, wrestled a 20lb bag of potatoes for a diaper change, played princesses, and as I rocked a teething baby to sleep for the third time. I wondered how a perfect stranger can see something in me that I have a hard time seeing.

I am my worst critic. Constantly wrestling with guilt and glutton in the land of raising children. Every decision second guessed with, ‘is this what’s best?’ I have days, many more so lately, where I feel like a less than awesome mom. Like I’m screwing everything and everyone up. I don’t know if I am, but I do know that at the end of a not so good day, my daughter still wants to snuggle with me on the couch while twirling my hair. My son finally drifts off to sleep on my shoulder, breathing so peaceful, and I feel all the love in the world. Kids are finally asleep, I walk past the bathroom to my room, I catch a glimpse in the mirror. Physically I see my hair is still a mess, yesterday’s outfit, and one sock on. But this time, for a split second, I think about the two words from that stranger in the milk aisle.

You’re awesome.

Yeah. I guess maybe I am.