A few weeks ago, I was getting ready for church one Sunday morning (which is already a challenge because it's one of the only 2 days in the whole week that we have to be out the door and looking decent by a certain time #homeschoollife), when only minutes into drying my hair, my round brush broke in half.
Of course it did.
As I stated earlier, Sunday mornings already kind of make me think bad thoughts, specifically about daylight and alarm clocks and clothes that don't have an elastic waistband, so this was cause for an adult lady meltdown. Always attractive.
After a pathetic attempt to manage with the carcass of my
stupid broken well-loved hairbrush, I finally resorted to the only other halfway decent option in the house. My 7-year-old daughter's Tinkerbell hairbrush. One day, I hope, she will be more useful in these situations.
I managed to make my hair look pretty normal and got to church on time thankyouverymuch. La-tee-da.
No one could tell by looking at me that I had done my hair with a Tinkerbell brush made for tiny child-size hands. Nor could they tell that while Allen was out of town that weekend speaking at a DNOW, we had popcorn for dinner....and maybe breakfast. They couldn't tell that I hadn't been out of my pajamas since Friday morning.
They can't tell by looking at me that really hungry equals really mean, or that if an empty container gets put back into the pantry or refrigerator (Please. Throw. It. Away.) I become manic and yell things about grocery list management and clutter.
I'm horrible at loading a dishwasher and can't make a decent grilled cheese sandwich to save my life.
I really really hate to dust (my
punishment chore growing up) so there's always a nice layer on the knick-knacks in my house.
Why am I telling you all this??
After a really crummy day or week, or in the midst of a dark time, have you ever looked at another person or family and thought, "I wish we had that life," or, "I wish I was like her."
My point is, you don't know everything. People only show you what they want you to see. Not that I intentionally keep that stuff from people. Had someone asked me what we had for dinner Saturday night I would have said, "Popcorn. It was delicious. And after the kids went to bed I polished off the rest of the spice cake I made Friday. It wouldn't stop looking at me."
See? I'm an open book.
But really, you can't know everything about everyone, so for better or for worse, don't be so quick to judge. The grass isn't always greener. Or as my husband says, greener grass means there's more poop on that side.
Although Tinkerbell deserves a little more credit. She's alright in a pinch.