Raise your hand if you occasionally feel your self-worth depleted after reading blogs. *raises hand*
Oh come on! You know what I mean. Maybe blogger X has read a bunch of books and finished some reading challenges and every review is interesting and free of grammatical errors. Maybe blogger Y posts daily and the posts are accompanied by perfect photographs and interesting commentary. Blogger Z not only blogs regularly, but comments on other blogs and responds to readers with quickness and genuine interest. Oh, but most of all my jealousy is awakened by blogger M. The Mommy Blogger.
Right. That one. “The home is lovely and filled with thrifted goods that have been spray painted the perfect color of teal, or accented with a quick-afternoon’s embroidery, or sliced into squares for that perfect quilt. The garden is blossoming. Peaches are freshly canned as bread rises and a soup simmers for dinner. The children are reading … gosh they’re tired after the morning spent feeding the goats, practicing violin, and helping baby sister learn her alphabet with the hand-sewn, owl-themed quiet book mom made last week. Let’s look at that baby. She is precious! Her hand-knit baby leggings cover her dimpled little legs, the cloth diaper doesn’t match, but cutely clashes with the wee little dress whipped up in an afternoon using a tea towel and a spool of vintage ribbon. Look at the family room! What a mess! Wooden puzzle pieces and a rag dolls are every where! And by everywhere I mean neatly splayed across that mustard yellow mid-century modern velvet couch. Oh my goodness! I’m a mess myself! Why my pressed skirt, vintage twinset, and Liberty print apron have a smudge from my afternoon of making Pinterest-inspired art with the kids that turned out beautifully. I think I’ll finish the day with exercise, sorting my Pyrex collection, putting my well-behaved angels to bed, finishing up War and Peace, grinding wheat for tomorrow’s bread and then having mind-blowingly hot sex with my husband before I turn in at the late hour of 10pm; after all, my 5am morning cup of coffee and undisturbed hour of blogging time comes early!”
Now this is not hating on the mamas who incite my self-scorn. Intellectually, I know that their lives aren’t perfect and they probably don’t do all of these things during the day. Most likely that kitchen sink is full of dishes, the toddler crapped on the floor, and then mind-blowing hot sex was given up so that the parents could watch Futurama reruns and demolish a bag of pretzels. I know this. But in my heart I imagine that I’m constantly failing and falling behind.
I know I’m not a failure, but I feel like I am.
Someone on my Facebook feed recently posted about feeling like doing really well in one area meant another area suffers. I can read all the books and post insightful blog posts but then maybe my brain isn’t with me at work and I do a half-assed job. The house will be spotless and clean, but we’ll be eating sandwiches and chips for dinner every night. And seriously… I have given up on the prospect of every having “special” time with Sam again. Maybe we could multi-task and talk about how the hell we’ll pay all these medical bills or what’s needed at the grocery store or work schedules for the next week while we’re at it.
I didn’t mean for this to be such a whiny post. But there it is. News flash: I ain’t perfect.
Okay, folks, let’s see this mom blogger’s shameful photo evidence of my life. Here is what my life looks like right now:
The cleanliness and order of my home has always reflected my mental state. Right now I’m disorganized and cluttered. I think this disorganization just needs a good dose of elbow-grease, some prioritization, schedules and lists (sorry, Sam, you know they help), and a good attitude.
All that matters is this:
… and this…