beginning again.

Well hello there. It’s been a while.

When I first started blogging I had every intention of blogging at least once a week if not more! I had every intention of sharing my life with you in real time like Olivia at To The Heights or Jessica at Domesticated Dutch-ish. I had every intention of doing more, sharing more, being more.

But alas, here comes the age old excuse that “life got in the way.” I don’t particularly like that saying because life never really gets in the way it just keeps going. Since my last blog, I’ve had my second baby, celebrated Christmas, my oldest broke her arm, I turned 25, celebrated Easter and had my first baby turn 2 (all I that order). Life kept going.

  

Then I started thinking about my blog. I had that nagging urge that I needed to write again. I wanted to write again. I wanted to have that outlet again; so here I am.

Trying to figure out what I wanted to write about was challenging. For anyone who has ever started a blog I’m sure it’s one of the most daunting things. Where do I start? What do I say? Will anyone read or care about what I care about?

Then it hit me. I’ve said it previously. I wanted to do more, to say more, to be more. I think we all come at life with the best of intentions. We all want to be the best at what we do.

In my case I want to be the best wife and mom I can be, but I know I fail all the time. My house is dirty, my kids need baths, I have dishes piled in my sink, my bed isn’t made, the laundry needs put away, and so on and so forth.

And then I see Pinterest. Seriously, where do these women come from? Where do they find the time to sew these perfect outfits, bake the perfect cupcakes, have the perfect most nutritious meal on the table when their husband gets home, their house perfectly decorated and spotless. And then there’s me – uh my kid had chicken nuggets and fruit snacks for lunch because it wasn’t worth the battle and I vacuumed while she sobbed the entire time. (Fear of the vacuum is another story all together.)

The more I thought about it, the more I realize I do that to myself a lot. I compare myself to other people I see before I even realize I’m doing it. My kids don’t care that my house is a mess. My husband doesn’t care if we have hamburgers for dinner because it was the easiest thing to make.

So why do I put all this pressure on myself to be the next  great baker or an iron chef or Martha Stewart? Because our society tells us it’s what we should do? Because I’m a product of my culture? Because the world has told me my entire life I need to do things a certain way, buy specific things, look certain way, or be rich in order to be happy?

Thats bullshit.

I don’t think the world would honestly know what happy was if it hit they square between the eyes.

I don’t need to be the best baker, or cook, or skinniest mom on the block, or even the richest. My riches aren’t monetary. Mine are the smiles And giggles of my beautiful baby girls. Mine are in the love my husband shows me every day. Mine are in my beautiful Catholic faith that lets me know I’m always forgiven and can try again.

Happiness is choice. Happiness is contagious. I choose to be happy. I choose to cherish the time I have. I choose to be the best possible wife and mom I can. If I fail, I’ll do better tomorrow. I promise.