The Hot Mess Express

I’ve been thinking about something recently… I may have given you all the wrong impression of me:   the impression that I know what I’m doing at any given time. I don’t. I am a hot mess, mostly the endearing kind, not the kind that needs an intervention—mostly.  I’m also an accidental jerk. I would never disrespect anyone on purpose, but I too often use the time of an event as a guideline, relying heavily on the “ish.”  For instance, I forget to send the card I bought two weeks ago, or I forgot to look up that information…or to bake those cookies.  I’m often the recipient of an email from the girls’ schools saying they need the form I forgot to fill out (or my specialty filling it out and leaving it on the table). And did I forget my daughter’s formal Senior photo session? Yeah, I sure did. I was able to reschedule, thankfully. But this girl (me)– she is a Hot Mess Express.

I used to make excuses for myself, I mean it’s pretty embarrassing to admit that adulting is hard and it may not be for you… now, I apologize for being an accidental jerk and I would never do it on purpose, yet here we are. I jokingly tell friends when I’m late to an event (which is often) that the “queen always arrives after her loyal subjects.”  Mark works a lot and often I’m waiting for him to get home before leaving, but not always.  My nephew got married last week (congratulations, Justin and Taylor!) and we weren’t able to go because of Covid. I forgot to send the card with my niece and texted her to get the address so I could get the card in the mail. I quickly added but let them know I plan on sending it tomorrow, but because of the person I am please let him know that it will likely be mailed on Wednesday.

Do I wish I did everything better, that I was on top of everything? Yes, of course. Do I think what I’m doing is good enough good? Yeah, I do. Most of the time, it is. I try to be present with my children and the people I love, I try to show up when people need me. But I’m also trying to learn to not be so hard on myself. Perfection isn’t attainable for me and honestly it shouldn’t be the standard for which we strive. As someone who struggles with clinical anxiety it’s bad for me. In truth, chasing perfection is bad for everyone.  We are going to forget things, we’re going to miss deadlines, but that doesn’t determine the people we are.

I hope that my children remember as a mom with a lot of quirks and one that held them when they were scared and let them go even when I was scared. That I loved them more than life itself that I love them so much I would share my coffee with them. ( It’s a bummer that they don’t like coffee.) I hope that my husband doesn’t focus on the laundry I didn’t get to until I had no choice, or the times I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer and we had to order out, or that every square inch of the bed is “my side.” I hope instead he sees that I tried to be a good partner and I valued him and appreciated the way that he values me. That I love him and the life we built and that I would chose him again and again. I hope that my family thinks less of the little girl with the big attitude and more of the grown person who tries to be as gentle as she can. I hope that the people who have worked with me over the years know that there were times that I got it wrong and they had to pick up my slack but that I always had their backs and I tried to be a good colleague. That I took their success as seriously as I took my own.

I hesitated writing this because I don’t want anyone to feel obligated to “make me feel better,” because quite frankly most of the time it’s just who I am. I apologize when I need to and I thank folks for their patience, help and understanding. In return, I endeavor to give a little more grace than people ask for. I mean… don’t we all need a little more kindness, encouragement and acceptance?  So, we’ll all do our best and if it calls to you, come on over to the Hot Mess Express—we have coffee. <3