I've been slacking on blogging lately. 30% because I'm busy. 30% because I have nothing to say. 10% because time moves too quickly and I don't realize that I haven't posted anything in almost a week. And 30% because I'm a bit annoyed with blogs right now.
I love browsing other people's blogs. Getting a peak into their lives and their homes. But there are times when it makes me feel like I've just given birth and am now forced to sit through the Victoria Secret fashion show. I feel inferior. Of course not everyone only shows themselves and their families at their best. I hope what I convey on my blog is a mostly truthful representation of who we are, but without showing you all the down and dirty or the we're so perfect aspects of our lives. I hope that's what I'm accomplishing. But I browse all these blogs and see their perfect houses, with their perfect matching furniture and uber-decorated cutesy stuff. And they are all crafty and all bake well. They all have perfect husbands and perfect children all spaced 2 years apart. They go running. Attend blog conferences. All somehow know one another. I'm obviously exaggerating with my "all." It's a rant, I'm allowed to. And Cristin commented and reminded me that they are all like professional photographers, with cameras I can only dream about owning and Photoshop. Now I don't hate these people. Or their blogs. I still visit them daily and drool over their perfection. But that doesn't really seem healthy, does it?
Sometimes I just want to see the real person. I realize that one of the nice aspects of a blog is the anonymity. And the be whoever you want to portray yourself to be. But I also want to see real people. I want to see messy bedrooms or offices. The unfinished basement. Show me your messy desk. Your clunker car. Let me know that sometimes you are still in your pajamas at noon (I know I am). The fact that you dyed your 8 year old's hair red (6-12 washes) for Halloween and it still hasn't washed out 5 months later. Something that makes you more real to me.
And I acknowledge that there are real people out there in the blogosphere, telling their real stories, showing us their broken hearts. I don't want to ignore them. I guess it's just the real me who focuses on all the perfection and not on the realness. I need to just feel happy for them that their lives are perfect. As the saying goes, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. And lately, I'm sick of looking at all that green grass. Not that my grass isn't green. But sometime it feels like NO ONE's grass is that green.
So no one accuses me of only showing you my perfectness (Ha!), here is photographic evidence of my imperfections.
Top picture: I never ever let my kids play in the kid play area at the mall. They are rarely allowed to play at the McD's play area, etc. Not because I'm a germaphobe. Just because they really annoy me and I don't have the patience for them. This picture is from a couple months ago and is probably the first time Little Guy has ever played at the mall. And only maybe the 3rd time for my big kids. And it was Jed's idea.
Bottom left: My sons' room looks like this probably three times a day (if I bother helping clean up in the middle of those three messy times. Otherwise, it just stays this way for days at a time.)
Bottom right: Princess Sparkley's room. This is a little worse than normal (the giant Rubbermaid container is usually under her bed). She'll claim that her room isn't this bad normally. She's been better lately, but this isn't unseen.
I also ignore my kids for long periods of time while I read books, blog, or hide from them (not really, I don't usually hide from them). For instance, right now, PS is waiting to use the computer. I told her it would be a minute, I needed to write a quick blog post. It's now been about 40 minutes. Bad mom.