So this is what you meant, when you said that you were spent?

Last night a group of ladies and I talked about some of the harsh realities of motherhood. It was funny, we all kind of agreed it was hard to read those blogs about perfect moms with perfect kids that craft, bake and never leave the house in sweatpants. If you came for that here, keep on moving.

I recently started following this chick on instagram. She coordinates cheetah print with chevron and it works, her house is decorated like a darling French Villa, she owns a small business, her kids are darling little cherubs, she can rock a pixie cut,  and she gets at least 317 likes on each picture she posts. How is it fair that one person gets it all? How can one person have each divine quality that I struggle to maintain even one?

Revelation comes in interesting ways. What I thought to be perfection really isn't so. We really all feel inadequate. We all find our children to be "inconveniences" at some point or another. We go bra less. That pinterest craft that we thought was awesome was a complete failure. We let our kids eat fruit snacks and a sucker for breakfast. But in the end life moves on.

I guess this week has just been a particularly rough one. Mckinley is completely irrational and is really pushing the boundaries with listening. She no longer sleeps in her bed but is crashed out on the couch almost every morning. Kingston is entering the terrible twos which we all knows leads to the awful threes and even-worse fours. My calling stresses me out. I never feel like I do enough. My cuticles are paying the price. My playroom smells like pee. I feel the frump from not being able to run and eating WAY too much crap. I can't sleep. I feel pressure and stress from my job. I still have to clean. Cook. Grocery shop. And all of this compounded with coming off almost two weeks of the flu for the whole Williamson house.

Epiphany. In the end it's all about expectations. What do I expect from my four year old-who is just that FOUR? What do I expect from myself as a full time, working mom? What do I expect my house to look like after two young kids with WAY too many toys have been playing all day? What am I expecting when I try to brave Target with two small kids and spend too much time perusing the clothes? How do I expect to feel when I stay up way too late watching Teen Mom & Project Runway?

Ultimately- this anxiety is totally self inflicted. It's about controlling the controllables. I can choose to be happy with this chaos called life. I can choose to let the mess, the naked 4 year old and the never ending explosion known as the toy room define my life OR I can add it all up, file it away and remember that someday it will all be a distant memory and hopefully, my kids will think their lives growing up were almost perfect. almost.