I knew I would be opening up a can of worms when I complained.
I knew there would be some people who would think, “What’s she complaining about?  She’s got it all?”
I knew there would be some who would say, “But I…” or “At least you don’t have to…”
And I knew that there was a chance that I might hurt some feelings.

But here’s the truth:
This blog isn’t for you.
This blog is for me.
And for my kids.
Oh, sure, I love that you come here.
I love that I am able to share our days, my thoughts with you.
And I love the conversations that come from this space.
But ultimately it’s for me, for us.
And when I look back and read this someday-
Or even more so…when my kids come back and read this someday-
I want them to see what it was like from my perspective.
And I don’t want it to be all sunshine and roses.
(Because it’s certainly not always sunshine and roses.)

In the comments from yesterday’s post, my cousin said this:

“…I love honesty about motherhood. It’s the best and the worst.
I feel like the worst was hid from me, or maybe I ignored it.”

I think that is so, so true.
We are quick to share our delivery room horror stories,
But we, as mothers (and fathers), don’t want to share our parenting lows.
And I get it.  I really do.

In the delivery room, most problems are not caused by the mother.
If something went wrong, we delve into conversations by saying “You won’t believe what happened…”
And when they’re little bitty babies, we talk of feedings and poop and sleep.
And we complain about long nights and spit-up.
All of these are things that are beyond our control.

But when that little baby starts to get bigger, I feel like we get more and more hesitant to share about the hard stuff.
Because if you admit that sometimes it is ridiculously hard, it somehow seems as if you have failed.
And you (well, maybe I’m the only one?) feel like you can’t complain because it would make you seem ungrateful.
And you can’t say what’s really on your mind because people will talk about how you shouldn’t do this or shouldn’t do that.
But I think in doing this, we are doing a disservice to each other.

I may present a pretty picture online (and my life is actually pretty darn amazing).
BUT there are days that aren’t.  And I have struggles just like any other parent.
And I yell sometimes.  (Ok, I yell a lot.)  (And very loudly.)
And I say things to them that I shouldn’t.
And, on occasion, I’ve been known to pop them a little harder than I meant to.
And while it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, there is something freeing about saying those things aloud.

It is almost as if I was unknowingly tied down by my own reputation.
I frequently get comments about how I am a fun mom and a good mom.
(And I genuinely appreciate them!)
But sometimes it is impossible to live up to the expectations that are there.
(And it is most certainly impossible to live up to the expectations I set for myself!)

And so here I sit, thinking back on the day.
Analyzing where it all went wrong
And how I could have done things better.
And I hear my own words echoing in my head.
You aren’t perfect.
You won’t ever be perfect.
Perfection is impossible
(But finding happiness in the imperfection is not).

Now if I could just learn to practice what I preach.
The learning curve is steep on this learning to love imperfection stuff.