Eeyore

 This week I feel like this...

I know I am not perfect, but I still find myself striving to be. To be a perfect Mom, to look perfectly pulled together, to have a perfectly cleaned and organized and decorated house, a perfect yard, perfect children. I know it's not feasible, it's not attainable. But I compare myself to perfect, I feel guilty that I CANNOT do it all. Guilty that I'm overwhelmed by the responsibility of two children, a dog, a house, a yard. I clean, and clean, and organize, and clean all day... and yet when Bruce comes home it looks the very same as when he left in the morning, or worse. It's a disaster zone. A chaotic, messy, disorganized disaster zone. Chaos. Bedlam. Pandemonium. Mayhem.Far, far from perfect! Yesterday my 3 year old found a paint roller (with wet paint still on it because I am disorganized and forgetful) and painted the guest room... the floor, the furniture, the sheets...It makes me think why doesn't my house look like this:

Image: The Pioneer Woman

(Who has 4 kids, and at least 2 dogs, and cows and horses)

I cleaned out my closet this morning, it only took about 10 minutes to throw away all the stuff that I don't wear, and organize the 3 or 4 things I do wear. Perfectly put together I am not. Not when you wear the one same outfit every. single. time. you. go. out. because you have nothing else that is even in the realm of nice. My Mom says I'm frumpy because I at home I tend to wear scrub pants and t-shirts. I guess she would be right. It's not that I don't care how I look, it's that the kids need clothes and food and toys, there's no money left for Mama to shop. And besides, nothing looks great on my jiggly, post baby, never bothered to try to get fit again body. I think why can't I look like this:

I yell. And threaten to throw out all the kids toys. I miss the days when I was more than just a servant and a cleaning lady. When I remembered how to play with them, and teach them. I spend so much time doing loads and loads of laundry, cleaning up everyone elses messes, changing bums (because I am not organized enough or self-disciplined enough for potty training) picking up the mess, trying to make sure that everything looks perfect when Bruce comes home, picking up the mess, playing where's my... that I just don't seem to have quality time for either of my boys anymore. At the end of the day I am burnt. I don't take "me time". I just go to bed. Wake up the next day and do it all over again.

My biggest challenge isn't to be perfect but to stop striving to be. To stop comparing myself to everyone else and just be me. Comparison must be ingrained in the female DNA though, comparison and perfectionism!