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  • faithfullyfailingh

You didn’t write their story

Updated: Jun 1, 2020

I went to the pool today with my daughter.

I was un-showered, makeup free, and my jewelry was definitely left at home—not even my wedding ring in tow.

As an introvert my favorite pass time is to observe people.

As I played with my daughter I looked around the pool at the other moms.

There were distinctly two types—

No makeup, no jewelry, unwashed top knots dripping with water—these moms were all in the pool experience.

Splashing with their kids, diving for toys, swimming and playing.

The second type of moms had styled hair, necklaces cresting their suits, Joanna Gaines style leather dangles peeking out of their perfectly styled beach wave hair, the best water proof mascara on the market, and I even spied a mom with bangles on her wrists. Aside from adorning a swim suit they looked as if they were ready for a date night—not the pool.

They stayed edged on the shallows never splashing never going in.

Every now and then a kid would approach for a floaty adjustment, a goggle tighten, or a quick sip of a drink. The moms smiled and cared for their littles as requested then returned to chatting.

I caught myself judging them as I played and swam with my girl.

I felt guilty in my judgment.

I remembered they are there, they are present and they are moms just like me.

What does it matter to my experience how they look or what they are doing?

I remembered I don’t know them or their story.

Maybe they have swam every day this week with their littles and this is their moms’ day out, but the kids are in tow.

Maybe they just feel pretty in their jewelry and swim wear. Who am I to say it’s not ok?

Maybe they are stay at home moms who engage and entertain those munchkins day in and day out and for the first couple hours in a week they have another adult to sit and talk to.

Who I am to write their story?

When you see a mom on her phone at the playground while her kids play—don’t judge.

You didn’t write her story.

When you see a mom frustrated and snapping at her kids in the checkout line—don’t judge.

You didn’t write her story.

When you see a mom out in Target with day five hair, pajama pants, and house shoes—don’t judge.

You didn’t write her story.

When you see a mom out perfectly put together, fresh faced and rested—don’t judge.

You didn’t write her story.

When you’re at the pool and you see moms in makeup and jewelry enjoying one another more than playing with their kids—don’t judge.

You didn’t write their story.

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