Not so picture perfect


I try to be a good mom, I think we all do.  We all fail, we won’t be the “perfect parent”, we will make some of the same mistakes our parents made, as well as fail miserably in areas that they seemed to have perfected.  But still, I try.  Perhaps not any harder than anyone else.  My life isn’t perfect, and I hope that it doesn’t seem that I am portraying otherwie.  I am so incredibly blessed, but that doesn’t mean that I always realize it or dwell on it.  I look at pictures of when my mom was a child or my grandparents and everything just looks so perfectly captured on these small little photographs.  And now with the digital age our pictures can quite possibly be even more deceiving.  We can take 100, delete 90 and forever have memories of the best of the best.  Believe me, you rarely see pictures of me on my blog because I don’t want anyone seeing what I look like most days.  It’s scary really!  Did you read my post when I scared myself when I saw what I looked like? (okay, not totally what I looked like, the camera did have the bulge effect on, but still.  Click here to see.)  I want to wear makeup and cute vintage-y dresses, but I don’t most of the time.  I want to wear cute shoes, but more often I am sporting flip flops.  I want to have a clean house and wear and apron and greet my husband at the door when he comes home with a sheet of fresh baked cookies.  But that is a far cry from my reality.  My reality is messy, it is plain, it is comfy clothes and pony tails.  It is sometimes freshly baked goods, and with it a counter and sink full of dirty dishes.  That is the truth.  I woke up yesterday on the wrong side of the bed.  I am not sure why, but I think it had something to do with my crazy dog chewing on something he isn’t supposed to.  Then, it was Tatum pulling the eggs off of my egg tree and catching it before it came crashing to the ground.  And then after that it was a very interrupted 4 minute phone call with my mom.  I found myself closing myself in the bathroom and then what do you know?  The bathroom door opens.  I yelled, “Can I please be alone for 2 minute?!”  My fuse was short and I needed a personal time-out so that I could regain my composure.  And I got one.  I went to the gym and took a Pilates class, but not before yelling one more time.  This time I yelled at Piper, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”  She makes up nonsense words sometimes and we are supposed to guess what she’s talking about.  Well, this time I didn’t feel like trying to guess what her “broom broom” shoes were.  And she ever so calmly responded, “Well, somebody is in a bad mood.”  That is right.  That would be me.  Guilty.  And so I apologized, loaded them in the car, happily dropped them off in childcare for an hour to myself and picked them up refreshed and ready to take on the rest of the day.  Though motherhood is sometimes ugly, the ugly voice comes out, the ugly clothes never get changed, the ugly mess sits around for way too long, we are not alone.   I am pretty sure that even though my grandma looks lovely in the old photos that I see, smiling with a baby on her hip and two small children attached to her legs, that she had her moments too.

I have this virtual life that you see that portrays some of my reality, my Christmas card life that portrays only a snapshot of my reality and then then there is the rest.  The rest is made up of laughter and tears, dirt and cleanliness, fights and making up.  Sometimes we are glad there are no cameras around, but it is those times that might even make us normal.

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