I've started to feel like there are expectations I can't meet.
Then I ask myself from where these expectations are coming, and I have absolutely no answer to that.
That ongoing and important topic of women comparing the messiness of their every day lives to the perfect photo-op moments that make it on to other womens' blogs has an effect here I am sure.
I mean, I use vscocam, and damn if some of those filters don't do magic
Sorry mom. I said damn, which I never say, and will refrain from saying again.
But really, life his more like this:
You see it?
Yeah. This is real.
Real life is seems like I am out of focus devouring bites of toast in a hospital gown while my boys are stunning and wonderful, and seem to be so much more than I deserve.
I mean look at that man. You can tell how I end up with a busy uterus. Sorry. Too much?
I'm afraid that sometimes I blog to meet these superfluous expectations, and forget to do it because I love to express myself, and it makes me happy. Dumb.
Here is to fuzzy backgrounds and eating food in as unladylike a manner as is necessary.