Feels

Oh, dearest. It’s been a while… I’m not really sure why. Perhaps my lack of interest in blogging in recent weeks, or maybe it’s been my hectic schedule. Perhaps both. In any event, here I am, ready to poor my heart out. I’m all in my feels, so, apologies in advance. 

  Life is hard. Let me rephrase that, life’s a bitch! Remember when you couldn’t wait to grow up? Make your own rules, follow the beat of your own drum? Perhaps you had dreams of being a teacher, or an astronaut. How quickly things change once we’re living it. Maybe it has something to do with me getting so much closer to 30, but, I have a much more difficult time getting out of the “funk.” When something ticks me off, I internalize it, and just have a dark cloud looming over me. I’m not depressed, but, sometimes, I can’t pretend I’m a jolly fairy princess with an endless supply of happy in a jar swirled with unicorn kisses. Being a grown up, is hard. Being a woman, is hard, being a grown up woman and having the wonderful responsibility of being responsible for little humans, is hard! 

Yeah, I know. Some of you moms do have an endless supply of happy in a jar, mixed with the jam you homemade. Placed on a shelf next to freshly baked homemade, organic, gluten free bread. Because… PERFECT MOMS. No shade my Susie’s.  Listen, I make homemade things. But, a mother who shows happy 100% of the time, with zero loads of laundry to be folded, homemade everything including medicine, kids are always dressed with matching socks, never late for doctors appointments and never desire a moment alone, because they’re wearing their babies EVERYWHERE. It does something to me. Perhaps, I’m doing something wrong. Surely something must be wrong with me if I’m not happy every.single.day. Right?

W R O N G. 

I’ve got so much respect for all mama’s, especially the ones who second guess everything they’re doing. There are some days when I’m up before the sun, cleaning house, folding clothes, preparing breakfast and have dinner done before 1 p.m. On those days, I feel like, wow, I’m a fantastic mother and wife. I can do this. But why? Why does it take for me to be on top of everything, to feel like I’m doing it right and worthy of praise? Moms who manage to keep their kids alive, fed and happy all week are all deserving of praise. Doesn’t matter how we get there. I believe I’ve blogged about something similar, but I felt it needed to be readdressed. And it’s nice to remind myself by putting it all out there in the universe, stop being so hard on yourselves. Somewhere, a mom will read this and hopefully feel better. 

Log out of Pinterest, take the day off from Instagram, and just do you! 

Peace and love always. 

ιnѕтagraм: тanaιanтoιneттe