Real life

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There were so many things I wanted to do this Easter season.
Crafts with the kids, Easter bunny visits, decorating, reading books about Easter.
None of them got done.
None.

I don’t even have an Easter basket for Olivia.  Daddy is working Sunday, Mommy is working Monday, so maybe Tuesday morning when Mommy comes home, we can do Easter baskets.  Fortunately, my kids are young enough still that they don’t know it falls on Sunday.

My facebook is filled with moms who have done Easter crafts with their kids, pictures of coloring pages and decorated baskets and crosses that my children’s peers have done in preschool and day care.  I can’t wait for tomorrow, when my facebook feed becomes littered with children dresses in new clothes, proudly displaying their easter candy before heading off to church.
We won’t be going to church tomorrow.  I had no time to get new clothes, and Olivia is teething and has a runny nose–and my husband is on a 33 hour shift.

And I start to judge myself. 
To feel bad because I just don’t have the time or energy to put into decorating and crafts; my energy is sucked away by children and the black hole of laundry/dishes/grocery shopping.  
Oh, and work–you know, those 24 hour shifts I work with minimal sleep, so I come home the next day and crash, and by the time I’ve had enough sleep, done errands and some quick housecleaning, it’s time to head back to work–those shifts.

I have to tell myself to stop.  My kids are 2 and ten months, they don’t know and don’t care whether or not they are doing some elaborate Easter craft–they would rather just eat the crayons and paste each other with glue, anyway.  They will get Easter baskets, but on a morning when both parents are home to see their delighted faces.  Olivia is ten months, she is just going to grow out of a fancy dress in a week anyway, and Josh would much rather roll around in the mud than wear a suit and tie. 
My kids are happy and perfectly content, my husband doesn’t think they are missing out on anything–it’s just me.
It’s only me.

And I have to stop judging my reflection by somebody else’s mirror.

My life doesn’t look like anyone else’s.  Their life doesn’t look like mine.  Maybe they have more time, maybe they aren’t up all night, every night, between work and a teething baby.  Maybe they have older kids to help them.  Maybe their husband is home every night and weekend.  Maybe they just have better time management skills than I do.

Or, just maybe, Facebook and PInterest are their highlight reel, and we don’t see the dishes stacked in the corner and the laundry in baskets.  Maybe we are comparing our rehearsal to their finished product.

So for today, I’m going to stop.  I’m going to take my happy and cheerful kids to an Easter Egg hunt, then come back and clean while they take naps.  Maybe later tonight we can dye Easter eggs, maybe we will just get baths and go to bed.
It doesn’t matter.  This is  my real life, and even if it will never look like anyone else’s, it is perfect for us.

 

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