After what feels like a very long day, when the kids are finally in bed, I sit down hoping for a moment to myself. Just a few minutes to waste looking at Instagram, Facebook and a little Pinterest; anything that doesn’t require me to actually think. As I scroll through all of the posts, I notice how many of the pictures are of mommas and their babies, beautifully dressed, posing in their pristine homes, smiling for the cameras. Everything looks so perfect.
Then I glance at my living room at the disaster that has just occurred. There’s a broken toy crane truck, stickers, puzzle pieces, two suitcases from a pretend vacation adventure and the remains of a Ninja Turtle lair (or blankets draped over three chairs). There’s also two holes in the wall where a ‘pillow’ ripped out the curtain tie back. At least that’s the version of the story that I was told. And that’s just to name the first few items that I spot.
I’m in my outfit of choice: yoga pants and a ponytail, with circles under my eyes (my new permanent accessory, even after four years of motherhood).
I start to wonder, what am I doing wrong that all of these other mommas are doing right? Why isn’t my house ever clean? Why don’t I wear pants anymore that don’t have an elastic band? Why do my children never actually smile at the camera unless bribed? What is that smell?
And then I shut my computer. Those blogs are not real life. They can’t be.
That’s when I decided that I wanted to start a blog of my own. One that portrays how mommas (and dads) actually feel, or at least everyone that I know. We are so hard on ourselves all the time, and for what? Our kids are not going to remember half the stuff that we think should be important right now (you know, like brushing their teeth and not looking homeless when they show up to daycare). But they are going to remember the stuff that matters. The crafts that you made and the ninja battles that you participated in. Not every moment will be picture perfect.
So here it is. My story for you so that you know you’re not doing it wrong (or if you are, we’re all doing it wrong together). I hope you’ll stick around. This is the real story of motherhood.