A Perfect Mom Is The Worst

My heart for moms everywhere, even women thinking of becoming moms and dads too, is to be a MARY not a MARTHA. Be still and leave your messy kitchen sink, your unfolded laundry, and sit down and truly listen to your children, show them you care through snuggles, listening, being silly and setting down your phone and chores… Children want nothing more from us than attention, affection and joy. None of those are found in fancy homemade gourmet chicken nuggets, a dust free home or perfectly organized drawers… They are found in the in between moments, the messy moment, the hard to find moments. They are only hard to find because we are always looking for a big moment to connect, the reality is that the big moment is happening 100 times per day in the drawing they desperately want to show us, in the tooth brushing and gargling they want us present for, in the silly minutes we spontaneously dance with them or read them one more book when it’s an hour past bedtime…those are the BIG moments. We must listen to our children now if we want them to talk to us about the big stuff in life later, because to them, it has always been big stuff ❤️ So cut yourself some slack, remove your expectation of what you should be doing, and just do what your heart has always wanted to do for them, that is all you have to do…the rest of the stuff will get done later and that’s okay. I’d rather have a “lived in” home full of messy moments and lots of love and laughter, than a perfectly put together home where the moments of mess stress me out, and the moments of laughter are happening while I am busy cleaning and cooking. I want to be IN those moments, not around them, what about you?  Read this perfectly imperfect article and move forward as your beautiful, imperfect, amazing, fun mom self!

Sarah Williams

Once upon a time, my son got an aquarium full of fish for his birthday.
Not long after, I accidentally killed all of his fish.
Something about aerating a tank?!? 
This is a fun fact he does not let me forget.

Last week, when I meant to say, “Let’s go, dudes,” to my kids, I said, “Let’s go, boobs!”
In a very loud voice.
Across the house.
My children have not stopped talking about boobs. Lovely.

I yelled at my daughter today for something that was not even a big deal and would not have bothered me on any other day.
But today I am stressed out thinking about some things.
And she got the unfair brunt of my nerves.

I think reading aloud to my kids is basically the ninth circle of Dante’s inferno.
It makes me cotton mouthed and annoyed.

I eat lunch in my dining room with…

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