{photo from last week: Me working while my baby sleeps, both of us in our pajamas (it was the afternoon)}
Life has changed so much since our family grew by two (oh so cute) feet. I always talk about the ways in which it got better because it has. I have talked to friends and even written about the lack of sleep, and my never ending to do list but I haven’t really talked about it much here. You may have noticed I didn’t have it all together when I snapped a photo of my girls during Thanksgiving and directly behind them were piles of laundry. And recently my mom pointed out that a listing of our house showed a sky-high pile of laundry in the background.
When I took that leap and left my job I admit I had a different idea in my mind of how life would be. I saw myself rising in the morning to make breakfast and lunches, putting on the ergo and taking regular morning strolls, working through naptime and finishing everything just in time to greet my husband and my daughter. And these were just a few of the farfetched ideas in my head.
Although things haven’t been the way I imagined this time has been nothing short of amazing. Sure, I am currently typing this with one hand, holding my baby in the other but I am holding my baby something the pregnant me stressed out about because I wanted to be with the little being that I carried in my womb, the little being that sent me running to the bathroom and hospital with every discomfort or strange symptom because all I wanted was for her to be ok.
So here I am, 8 months since she first arrived.Folded laundry sits atop the bed, dust bunnies forming in the corners in the living room, and me, un-showered and still in my pajamas. I rarely take photos of the things I cook because I’m just so hard on myself. Why do I assume that because I work from home my culinary skills would be good enough to land me a spot on the Food Network? Despite my vow to be in more photos with my children (and I have been) I miss out on so many opportunities to take them. Because I obsess over how I look, the weight, the crazy hair, and un-manicured nails which are all the parts of me that were not synonymous with the woman that I once was. I am guilty of not sharing photos of my girls because my oldest, who sleeps like a wild child, didn’t keep her scarf on at night and now her hair is fuzzy and it will look like I don’t “keep her up.” I am also guilty of not posting photos because we (the baby and I) are wearing the same thing we had on yesterday (but truth be told, if something is clean we wear it again before washing).
I guess in the back of my mind, I worry that these are things that will make me look like I am totally failing at this WAHM thing not just to you but to my family. That my husband got the short end of the stick by backing me in my desire to do this. I look at beautiful photos of homemade meals, bright-eyed children, and fashionable mamas and I wonder where I went wrong. And I wonder if this was the right choice.
But I haven’t failed. I am still finding my way. While my body isn’t in my eyes ideal it is still doing some wonderful things like nursing my baby, wrapping its arms around my 8 year old while she prays before bed, and my head still rests perfectly on my husband’s shoulder, particularly on those days when I don’t need words just comfort.
I joke about pajamas and unbrushed hair but I also do myself a disservice by thinking that I am less of a wife, mother or woman because my life isn’t camera ready. What it is — is beautiful not because of the backdrop but because of the people and the joy they add to my life. My reality is one in which I am forced to constantly make choices — do the laundry or shower and get dressed, wash the dishes or watch The Voice with my daughter before bed, work during nap time or stay up late and work. Sometimes I have to work as I listen to the sounds of my girls giggling in the other room with their father but sometimes, more often than not, I let the laundry pile up and the dishes sit and instead of putting my baby down to play I hold her in my arms, and instead of having my daughter sit and create on her own I sit and create with her. This time is fleeting and I want to remember it for what it is; the mornings before church when the girls are dressed and bright eyed and the moments when my oldest is sprawled out in the bed beside me fuzzy hair and all, her big sister wearing mismatched socks, and me in my husband’s socks because it only makes sense that I raid his clean laundry when I have none.
My real life is beautiful but at times it is tough and messy. But if I keep holding on, navigating through the tough and learning to accept the messy more often, I think I will be able to find even more joy in the journey than I already have.
Linking up with Selena of Le Petit Reve for #RealMamaLife. Thank you for this.
