Real Life

Blogs and facebook are a funny thing. We get to virtually enter people's lives. Sometimes we only get a glimpse. Just the surface layer of what they are willing to share. An immaculately decorated home. A professional family photo with coordinated outfits, loving smiles and airbrushed faces. And other times we see everything. Truely. Even pictures of their placenta.   

Each of us have complete control over how much we let our facebook friends or really anyone in the world view our lives. We share. We over share. But it's up to each individual to decide what is appropriate to give to the masses when they hit post/publish. 

But for me...

I hope I am being real. Being honest. That no matter how little or many posts I share, I hope I am sharing the real me.  I hope when I look back over my timeline or in my archives I can remember life as it really was. Not perfect. Not awful. But really hard. And really awesome. 

So for today, here's my real life.  

Real life is that my children are still not dressed. 

Real life is the breakfast of English muffins on the floor uneaten 2 hours later (see right side).

Real life is that Kendyl is shredding up her coloring book with one of Nathan's tools. 

Real life is that I have no idea why, and I don't really care because I got to clean my kitchen.

Real life is the Cherrios that are scattered throughout half of my room. 

Real life is that they've been their for 2 days.

Real life is that my kitchen is clean and smelling of bleach.

Real life is sometimes looking like the person in the background of this photo.

 Real life is Josie jumping on the couch even though I've put her in timeout a million times.

Real life is the sparkly purple nail polish I found on my toilet this morning.

 Real life is letting my kids destroy our balcony just so we could talk to the missionaries when they came for dinner.

Real life is that it still looks that way a week later.

Real life is this.

 And this.

And if I had my phone around after Kendyl pulled Josie's hair I might have posted that too.

Because this is my real life.

And when I look back years later I want to remember what life was really like. 

The big decisions and scary moves.

The drudgery that comes each day. Loading and RELOADING dishwashers, washing machines, and car seats.

The messes.

The mistakes. 

Finally figuring out what worked.

Feeling lonely and depressed.

Feeling beautiful and happy.

The little successes.

The big failures.

Bad hair days. 

Bad mom days.

Ever-evolving relationships.

The yelling.

The smiles.

Feeling completely overwhelmed.

Feeling so good about what I did.

I hope because of what I shared I will remember what I survived: Real Life.

And even more, I hope I learn to thrive. Not despite real life. 

But really, truly because of it.

The end.

Publish.