PARENTING

I’m Not Going to Make It as an Insta-Mom

We prefer chaos

Photo by Jusdevoyage on Unsplash

“Come on,” I called to my daughter as I stood by the front door.

I exhaled and pushed my long waves over my shoulder, letting my hair cascade down my back.

“Are you coming?” I called again as I opened the camera app on my phone.

I glanced in the hallway mirror and brushed my mascaraed eyelashes with my finger. My gaze shifted to the right, noting the time on the large clock. We still had fifteen minutes to get the perfect photo.

I’d micromanaged our morning down to the minute. And everything had gone smoothly. We were ready.

“Sweetie?” I called again.

Silence greeted me.

Huffing, I strode into the living room and caught sight of the floor-length curtain twitching by the large window. Two small, shiny, black shoes poked out from underneath the fabric.

“You’re going to mess up your hair,” I said urgently, striding over to the curtain.

I pulled it back to be greeted by a wail from my four-year-old daughter.

“Do you want to take the photo here in front of the window?” I asked.