being a mom is hard

Today I’m feeling grateful that a day is only twenty-four hours, and also that close to half of that time one of my kids is asleep…er… in her room for the night…
…because being a mom is hard. There I said it. It’s hard. Not so much that I have any regrets about my choice to be a mom, not even the timing of it all, please don’t get me wrong. I am very happy with this stage of life and where I am right now. Often we have days where I love every minute with my kids and I miss them while they sleep at night. But needless to say, today is not one of those days. 
I feel like often I do all in my power to give the impression to myself, as well as others, that I have it all together. That every day is blissful and my children just play nicely, smile for yet another picture I can post to instagram and life is really quite perfect. Which I guess *cough*cough* isn’t particularly true…
But on the flip side of all of that, I also feel like the moment I give in to complaining and focusing on how hard daily life can be, I’ll be sucked into a vortex of negative chaos that will never let up. 
I don’t really know where all this is going, other than to share that it’s on my mind, and I hope you don’t think I’m perfect or anything. (And you’re all like,”I don’t know where you got the idea anyone thinks you’re perfect… We all know you’re a hot mess…”  haha… yeah..) 
But really, how does one find the balance between being vulnerable and honest about when times are hard, and pushing through, focused on the good times. I’ll admit, it brings me a lot of happiness to scroll through pictures on my phone and remember all the happy times with my family. I like reading through old blog posts and putting myself back in that moment. Maybe that makes me a total snob? But hey, it makes me happy and I don’t plan on changing. 
So if I do try to give the impression that I have a beautiful life that usually runs pretty smoothly, if I do focus on capturing the great moments rather than the hot-mess moments, if not quite pretending, but almost, I have it all together more often than not make me a dishonest person?  And is it shallow that I’m happier when I’m showered, well dressed and feeling accomplished? I realize that my worth is inherent, but does it mean I have poor self-worth if I like myself better when I am acting put together? That’s just like “faking it til I make it”, right? I’m really just acting the way I want to feel and there’s nothing wrong with that… right? But am I really faking it? Because I do feel like on a scale from one to ten I’d give myself like a nine and a half. Not because I’m perfect and my life is perfect, but that I truly do find beauty in my life, with where we are as family right now. I’m happy. I love my life. Crappy car, undecorated walls, floral couches, lumpy bed and all. (Not that I wouldn’t change every single one of those things if we could afford it ;) 
Well, I don’t really know that we got anywhere with all that rambling, but I do feel better. Thank you blog for being a place to let my thoughts run wild and allowing me to be vulnerable, even if all I’m doing is admitting to the world that my mind needs two maps, a GPS, a compass and a whistle to follow. Just ask Jeremy, he knows :)
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