Perfectly Imperfect

I used to have this idea of just how I thought my life was going to be like when I had kids. I’d be able to handle everything at home with them while MacKay went to work. He’d come home to a clean house and dinner on the table. It was my ideal and I strived to make it happen.

When we moved to the city I knew that I was finally going to be able to stay at home with Harlan. It was my dream come true. We moved into a smaller apartment which meant that it was less space for me to clean. I was just blocks from the grocery store, which meant that I could cook anything I wanted to each night and make quick trips to the store at a moments notice.

It would be perfect.

Three years after our big move and another little girl later, I’ve come to realize that perfection is nearly impossible. I often get asked how do I do it? How do I take care of the girls and everything else while still maintaining my work life from home. The truth? I don’t.

My life is far from that dream that I had for myself years ago. It’s just not possible. Of course I try my hardest to keep the apartment clean and have dinner on the table for our family, but sometimes I just don’t have the energy to cook and clean. And it drives me crazy. I’m a bit of a neat freak and everyone else in my family is the exact opposite. I clean the girl’s mess and minutes later it looks exactly the way it did before I cleaned.  (Having a smaller apartment means less space, which is less to clean but more opportunity for clutter.)

The other day, after cleaning up the girl’s toys for the millionth time, I finally thought to myself, “why am I doing this?” Why am I trying to make everything perfect when that’s just not the way it’s supposed to be.

Right now I have laundry that needs to be folded, dishes that need to be cleaned,  toys scattered everywhere around my apartment, and I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to cook for dinner tonight (or if I’ll even have the energy to do it.)

Right now I also have two little girls chasing after each other laughing and screaming while bringing out nearly every single toy from their room. And they are happy. Unbelievably happy.

I’m happy too. As much as it drives me crazy to be surrounded by this mess, I’ve finally come to realize that I can’t stress about it anymore. Because life is good.

It’s perfect.

Perfectly imperfect.

For more on our messiness, check out some of my favorite funny messy moments between the girls over at Babble.com!

• Like Mother, Like Daughter, The Funny Habit My Baby Inherited from Me
• 5 Products for a Less Messy Meal Time with Baby