My life…

My house has been a mess for two weeks. My boys need haircuts. My dog needs to go to the groomer. I need to clean out my closet and install a shower curtain rod (that I bought a month ago). My dishwasher is clogged and I’m going to have to pay someone to come out and fix it. One of my toilets keeps running… and I’m going to have to pay someone to come out and fix that also. My kids eat too much fast food. And I let them. They eat too many unhealthy snacks… and I let them. I don’t work out enough. I weigh the most I’ve ever weighed in my entire life. And I miss feeling sexy. I’m tired. Always. Tired. B2 has started waking up at 4am again. This morning I handed him his tablet and went back to sleep. I sign my kids up for extra curricular activities and then resent them until the season is over. I have circles under my eyes. But I’d rather wear my circles than put makeup on everyday. I need to work from home more. I need to do better about sticking to a budget. I need to get the oil changed in my car. My garage is STILL dirty.  My to do list is so long that some days I don’t even try… And I am also my worst critic.

But BJ tells me I’m the best mom ever. Even when I forget to give him after school snack money. And B2 runs to me as fast as his legs can carry him when I come to pick him up from daycare. Though the days are sometimes so freaking long and they boys act like they can’t hear me unless I repeat myself three times… the good always outweighs the bad. There will always be a list. I refuse to judge myself by it. There will always be someone who looks like they have themselves far more together than I do. I refuse to compare myself to them. There will always be an article or a parenting website that says I’m doing it all wrong. I refuse to diminish my efforts by holding myself to those impossible standards…

Because my boys tell me I’m the best mom ever. And when I look at their smiles, when I listen to their giggles, and when they wrap their arms around me and give me little boy kisses… I believe them.

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