I have been thinking about my blog a lot. (OMG! I have a blog!) I never considered myself a writer and here I am writing about things. What things? My perfect kids and husband? My perfect life? My dog that scoops her own poop?
I have read blogs kinda like that. The kids model for gymboree and the mommy's model Victoria's Secret. The house is out of a Pottery Barn catalog. And the daddy's are superman with a law degree.
That's not my life. My kids are cute, but they don't help pay the bills with their modeling. I'm not a VS lingerie model, but I pretend to be when the blinds are drawn. I have some Pottery Barn, but mine is dusty and scribbled on. My husband is superman but can't fly. Or get me out of traffic court.
My life is far from perfect. I yell at my kids. Fight with my husband. I slam doors and have been known to throw a remote or two. Laundry piles up. Never look under the beds or in closets. I still haven't unpacked all the boxes from our move. (that was in December!) I'm too addicted to Facebook and Twitter. My kids have watched TV all day in their jammies.
Those things may put me on the naughty mommy list. The perfect mommies can have their life because mine is perfect for me. Dirty laundry and all.
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Couldn't have said it better myself!
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