Look, I know the areas in life where I excel. It unfortunately doesn’t involve me being a size two and wearing the most. stylish. boots. you ever did see. I will not be doing a triathlon, I’ll be the one over there handing out water and cheering you on while eating a muffin. My house isn’t ever company ready. Just move that pile of Legos, I will make dinner. I can make you laugh, I can make you think. I am a great friend. I am amazing in bed. I like the woman that I have become. I can also throw a party like you wouldn’t believe.

My name is Michelle and I throw “Pinterest worthy” parties for my children.

I don’t think this makes me a shitty mom, a superior mom, or that I have too much time on my hands. I assure you, I do not.

I also don’t think it makes you a shitty mom for NOT throwing parties like that for your children’s birthdays, having a spotless house, and working full time. I hope you’ll afford me the same kindness when I am braless in the drop off lane at school wearing pajamas and you look like you’ve had twelve hours of sleep, a blowout, and your makeup done before 9 am on a rainy Tuesday.

No really… my hair isn’t this big usually, the rain… dear God, the rain.

We all have our own things, our gifts, and talents. We all have our own priorities. That they are different, doesn’t make them wrong. We all are making the best of our collective situations, but it doesn’t mean we have to be assholes to each other.

See that? I swear too.

We’ve all become so defensive and annoying about parenting.

Do I make my single parent friends upset when I talk about an awful day that I’ve had when Dave is travelling for work and I don’t have a break? Do they think parenting is a breeze when there are two of us here? {Because it isn’t. Not even a little bit.} Does my friend Jen feel badly about showing off the hand sewn curtains and quilt she made for her sweet baby because I can’t sew for shit? Does Danielle feel badly that she runs freaking marathons {with her feet!} and training takes time away from other things? Does Kristina hesitate to Tweet that her kids are in bed by seven and she and her husband have some much needed alone time? Does Lindsay feel awkward that she always looks gorgeous next to the other moms at school? Does Emily pause before posting about finally, finally having her depression under control because she knows there are other moms still struggling? Do you neglect to mention that you and your husband are going on a vacation alone and get to sleep in for a glorious week because your sister hasn’t been on a vacation in 5 years? Does the mom from school buying Lunchables shove them under all of the other items in her cart when she sees you?

Why are we even thinking about this shit?

Really, why?

I have friends who feel badly about giving up breast feeding early, about breastfeeding too long, about not being able to cook, about not being the stylish mom, and about being the mom that wants a break from her kids. I have friends who feel guilty about sending their child to daycare, about not having the money to send their kid to camp, about not being athletic enough to coach their child’s soccer team. I have friends who worry about not having a house out of Martha Stewart Living. I have friends who feel like the frumpy mom, the single mom, the working mom, the stay at home mom, the mom that wore the wrong thing, the disorganized mom, the helicopter mom, the type A mom, the young mom, the old mom, THAT mom.

I have friends that worry that they are the only ones who aren’t Super Mom.

No one is Super Mom.

Not you. Or you. Or even you. Certainly not me. We just have different priorities.

My husband would argue that maybe shaving my legs and slapping on a little lipstick could take precedence over printing and organizing 350 school year photos for the kids in Finn’s class.

But Davester, I’m NOT Super Mom!

You want to be a crunchy organic vegan mama championing the fight against GMOs? Do it. You want to be the ballsy CEO of an empire so you can hire the best nanny money can buy? Step right ahead. You want to feed them takeout every night and spend that time playing with your kids? Go for it. You want to wear full makeup and heels on that field trip to the apple orchard? More power to you sister. You want to put those kids to bed at 7 pm every night and have some time to yourself? Rock on.

Just be a good parent, love your kids, and do the best that you can. Quit being a jackass to those who don’t share your choices.

More importantly, quit being a jackass to yourselves.