Dear Mrs Sweatpants,
I remember myself as the mother of one child, completely put together and taking my precious, sleeping, three month old to the doctor for her check up. I saw you in your sweatpants and your over sized shirt and your greasy hair and I'm ashamed to admit that I judged you. You had crazy eyes as you tried to pull your toddler off the germ infested toys while rocking your screaming baby. You probably hadn't slept in a week you looked like it. No offense. And there I was with my blond ponytail and my perfectly organized diaper bag and I patted myself on the back for keeping it together in public.
Now, Mrs Sweatpants, I make you look like Martha Freaking Stewart. When I arrived at the pediatrician's office today, for the sixth time in two weeks, I was wearing the same sweatpants I had been wearing for the past three days. I had managed deodorant and had half-heartedly brushed my teeth, but my hair was un-brushed, I had on no makeup, and both of my kids were in pajamas. Princess and Santa respectively. And the crazy eyes... oh did I have the crazy eyes. It came from lack of sleep combined with lack of coffee and a frantic worry for the health of my children. Not to mention that the entire drive there was through snow and my minivan kept beeping at me all like, "EXCLAMATION MARK WHAT THE EFF ARE YOU DOING OUT IN THIS WEATHER." I. was. frazzled.
So I am sorry for making judge-y eyes at you those two years ago as my precious pink baby snoozed in my arms. Your job is not easy. You tend to your children at the expense of your own health and sanity. You, I'm sure, would love to be looking good but maybe your kids were crying hysterically too, as were mine when I made the attempt to get myself ready before going out the door. I know that when it comes down to it I would rather keep their tears away than keep up appearances.
Motherhood isn't the most glamorous of jobs but I at least get to treat my girls like princesses when they are sick. They deserve that. I know in a few days, when the medications have kicked in and we have a slept that I will be back to myself. My pants won't be made of cotton and my shirt won't have snot stains all over it... but that day was not today.
You are a hero Mrs Sweatpants. Know there is someone out there that is looking past the sweats.