I recently spent time with some Seattle mommies and really had my eyes opened about how the other half lives.

My first observation, and yes this is shallow, they are all so thin. And they wear makeup. And…they do their hair. How can you look that good and still stay sane when running around to all the different events, and activities, or after a day alone in the house with toddlers and a screaming baby? I want to know how much sleep they get.

Sure they have all that great culture; bands, and bars, writer’s groups and open mic nights, but is it really worth it to be in the thick of all that? Especially now when the family life is pulling at the outer threads of your sanity already? (To be fair, we did also talk about the importance of staying active in the adult world, and living where life still looks like it did in my twenties, has its place, but that’s not the topic of this post.)  I heard them talk about feeling alone in the crazy mommy world where everyone ignores or demands something from you, no one cares what you really think or feel.

Apparently Seattle mommies suffer alone, spending the time when they are together trying to project an image of perfection that we all know is unattainable. When it’s all around you it must be hard not to feel like a failure when at 10am, the house is a mess, everyone’s still in pajamas, you start cursing in front of your two year old.

I told them that mommies where I’m from are so much more laid back. Like the California Cows, life is better here. Oh I know there’s so much I am missing in the cultureless void, the unhip suburban wasteland, but really, is that all there is? I was never hip to begin with so maybe I don’t miss it because I never had it.

Here they tell about the crazy crap their kids do, lube used as hair gel, waking up to toothpaste smeared over the entire house, inattentive hubbies, clueless hubbies, great-overachieving hubbies. They do or don’t do preschool, swim lessons, ballet, Little Gym, or cooking classes.  I have never felt pressure to be anything but the imperfect whacked out woman in her thirties that I am. That’s what I see all around me.

This is not to say that mommies here don’t do anything. We do a lot. We put on holiday festivals and picnics , swap clothes, recipes, and books. We ski, discuss politics and religion, go to the ballet, hike, camp, go ice skating, learn sign language, garden, and visit the library. There is always somewhere to go when you run screaming from the house, and when you get there someone will tell you how much TV their kid really watches.

I have even found a small group to read the new translation of War and Peace with me. A few of the mommies are signing up to write a novel in November. And to think, there is still the belief that we have no culture. I shake my head.

This spring I started running with one of the mommies who was signing up for a half marathon. I went along just to see what would happen and be a part of something different. I love it and the sport has become a huge part of my own prescription for emotional and physical wellbeing. And I am not a size two thank you very much.

Some of us on good days wear makeup, do our hair, and even do the laundry that’s piled up over the last two weeks. Some keep great houses and throw cute little tea parties, and the rest of us sit around in awe and laugh at how that would be nice but this is not where we would choose spend our own time.  No one is in the minority because she doesn’t keep a great house or carry a certain type of phone or diaper bag.

 I know one mommy who is very fit, usually wears makeup, has great hair, and keeps a great house. She confesses that she actually likes to clean. We don’t have that in common. She also likes to use the F word. I get to commiserate with her about the days of feeling totally isolated and ready to snap. She is one of my favorite people, ready to laugh at any story, and top it with one of her own.

I am so grateful that the mothers in my groups encourage and help me to be a better mom, and a better person, at the same time providing opportunities and activities for my kids. This helps me remember what all this craziness is really about. It’s OK if some days I don’t like it either.

I love that it isn’t important to project an image that makes the rest of us feel inadequate. They’re real mommies and I love them.