Confession: I’m not so sure I like my post from last week.
I like to return to posts a day or so after they go live to try and read them as an “outsider” would. After I read my last post the following day this is what went through my head …
- I sound like I’m asking people to air their dirty laundry in order to keep it real.
- I sound like I’m saying when people blog about the beauty in their lives it’s probably fake or over-exaggerated.
- I sound kind of pissy.
- Maybe I have it all wrong. How many times have I wanted to blog the beauty in my own life and not, worried it would come across like I was trying too hard?
I think the message I was trying to send is this: Let none of us assume our lives are less beautiful because we don’t post beautiful pictures and eloquent words. Let none of us post pictures or write words that paint a picture that isn’t accurate to what really happened or how we’re really feeling. Let none of us get caught up in the competing to show how “my life is more beautiful than yours.”
Some of you totally got it, I know. And, for any others who didn’t, I’m sorry. I really didn’t write it feeling pissy at all. Yet somehow I think I came across that way.
I do think it’s true that there are all kinds of photos I consider posting, but don’t worried it would come across like my life is so glorious and perfect, my house always clean, my schedule perfectly filled with work and play and my Charley never unhappy. My house is filthy, I am still insanely low on the Crossfit totem-pole and Charley threw-up all over me today. Yet, it’s ridiculous that I don’t post the beautiful, too, because I’m worried it will seem as if I’m bragging. That is no different than posting this picture …
… and saying our time at the beach was perfect in every way.
I am learning. Learning every single day. And, boy do I have a ways to go.
So, I leave you with a few pictures I took of my loves.
She is totally infatuated with her dada (she calls him “Bay” which is short for “Babe,” the name I call him). She is constantly looking around the house for him and when he pulls up she stands by the door or window waiting eagerly for him to walk in. She’ll always smile and sometimes get shy, but always when he picks her up she opens her mouth for a kiss. He is her biggest love. She prefers he hold her over me and I’m okay with that (most of the time). I want all of my kids to think their Dada hung the moon and hung the moon is just what she believes.