When I confessed to her that I pretty much wing it, hoping no one looks too closely (at my baseboards, my roots, my "yell jar" full of money because we are really really trying to stop yelling in our house), she said, "But you seem like you have it figured out."
Figured out? Me!?
See, that's the good thing about having friends and family that live far, far away. They only see your house at its best, freshened up for visitors. They only see your family when there are no such things as nap times and too many popsicles because, you only see them every five months or so, so let's make this one a good one.
They don't see the text message from your daycare asking if you have a dog because your children, the human Swiffers, have hair all over their pants. They don't see that you haven't made it on time to anything since you had kids, and that one time you were on time you forgot snacks, wipes and your house key.
They don't see the milk-filled sippy cups that are magnetically drawn to the abyss under your couch.
|I know you didn't want to see it, but I didn't want to smell it. Ugh.|
But if you were to spend
They show photos of their organizational systems that you then post to your "I WILL get organized" board, but really, you just feel guilty and overwhelmed every time you see it because you know that your mail and bills and photos and cards will remain in little piles scattered around your house because you are just not that organized, and you never will be.
And if you were to judge yourself against these people, because, let's be honest here - everyone judges everyone - then you would come off woefully bad.
And that's why I blog. So I can show other people out there that I don't have it figured out. That you don't have to have it figured out to enjoy your life.
Sure, sometimes I want to pull my hair out if my (almost) 3 year old asks me any more questions. Or if my 10 month old won't sleep. Or if the dog just got shaved but is somehow still shedding.
Sometimes I want to scream at the top of my lungs and stomp around like a 3 year old. (He gets to, why can't I?!)
Instead, I get on here, write about all the things I do not have figured out and hope that somewhere out there is a community of moms just like me, rallying behind the scenes, saying "We don't have a clue either!" and that we can all go out and have a margarita.