I know comparison is one of the causes of suffering according to the Yogic philosophy, but it's hard not to when you see that perfect looking, pony-tailed mom with coffee in one hand, kombucha in the other, her golden retriever's leash in the other, and the jogging stroller with peacefully sleeping twins inside that pushes itself.
Bryan and I had this idea that we would be marsupial parents because we hated those unwieldy, monstrous strollers that are impossible to fit through doorways and are like 10% room for your child and 90% random pockets for all your shit to get lost in. We had numerous carriers but they all hurt different parts of my body. I rotated them to achieve an all-over body soreness, but decided after many months a stroller would be a useful solution. So we got a cheap, second-hand stroller with plastic wheels that looks like it's made for a doll. It's pretty much the Ford Festiva of strollers. No frills and no cup holder, so I wedge my coffee in between the useless sun visor and it sploshes everywhere. It's also hot pink so I get to hear people comment on how beautiful my little girl is.
As for our dog... I don't even know where to begin. The pulling? The walking sideways into the stroller constantly so I run over his paws? The need to avoid all delivery personnel so he doesn't attack them? The pooping? Theo had the words "Milo is a poo poo butt" way too early in his vocabulary. I used to not be able to leave the house with less than four bags. Now I keep a whole roll in the stroller. One day he pooped six times on a twenty minute walk. Six fucking times! It's a mystery of science really. You would think you can only poop out as much as you eat, but somehow our dog is a shit-making factory. He also spaces them out, like a nugget here, a nugget there. He'll waddle for half a block, pooping the whole way. I am SO CLOSE to putting him in a basket and pushing him down the Willamette. (That's a biblical reference for those of you that suck at Jeopardy.)
I have my moments when things are going well - Milo isn't pooping, Theo isn't screaming, my coffee isn't spilling, etc. - where I feel like I could be that mom that looks like she has it all together. I have a smidge of makeup thrown on and am wearing my formal clothes (anything that's not sweats/spandex) and smile and wave at people who pass by us, who smile fondly in return. But then I inevitably roll the stroller through a slug or something squishy and say ah shit! And Theo starts yelling ah shiiiit ah shiiiit and then I realize the Universe has a weird sense of humour and so I laugh along with it... all the way to my pill cabinet.