Attention Fakers: I’m Real and I’m Proud of It

For years I tried to be the perfect mom. I told myself that my not measuring up to the impossibly high demands of perfection was because I was somehow a deeply flawed human being. Turns out, keeping it real means sometimes not always keeping it totally together. ABC’s new show American Housewife celebrates Katie, a mom who makes a sport out of being herself. Inspired by the show that premieres Tuesday, October 11^th at 8:30|7:30c on ABC, I am hereby introducing the real me:

The Real Me

I am an over-tired, imperfect, physically average, almost 40-year-old mom with a list of flaws bigger than my fat pants. Just like my girl Katie from the new ABC show American Housewife, I really have no desire to be like the perfectly fit, perfectly made-up women drinking green juice at drop-off.

My Real Morning

I’m marching around my house in my pajamas with my hair in a messy bun (and not Pinterest messy, but more like I just jumped into a mosh pit messy) trying to get my kids out of bed and remember where the hell I put my damn coffee down. There have actually been days when I threw a trench coat on over my pajamas so that I could drive my kids to school without them being late. Thank God, no one asked me to get out of the car. I was only wearing socks.

My Real Kids

My kids? God love em’ but they would be total heathens if I didn’t remind them 80 times a day to not be close talkers, pick their noses, or chew with their mouths open. I love my children to death. They are literally my world as a stay-at-home-mom, but no matter what I do they are never perfectly behaved. No child is.

My Real Kids’ Diet

I’m going to call out the fakers who tell you that their child has a perfect diet and just loves blistered corn with stuffed pork chops and kimchi or some other glossy magazine recipes. OK, fine, that actually sounds really delicious, but we’re having takeout because I couldn’t get myself together enough to plan something as complex as a marinade.

My Real Marriage

My husband and I are mostly too tired for “sexy time,” but when we do find the energy (provided no one has eaten a big meal) we still are great together. I am most proud of the fact that I can yell at him for something he did and then call him five minutes later from the side of the road when I have car trouble and know that he will be there with a smile to bail me out. Because he’s my real (sometimes annoying) partner for life.

My Real Craft Skills

I cannot, for the love of God, tackle a craft project to save my life. If my kids need me to make a costume for a school play, then you will find me immediately ordering something online and stress-eating brownies. I was not born with a hot glue gun in my hand, but I do know how to work an online promo code like a boss.

My Real Identity

You can call me a hot mess, imperfect, impossibly unorganized, unfashionable, whatever. But at the end of the day, imperfect or not, I am real and I am proud.

Namaste, Fakers. That felt great.