I cringe so hard when I read the comments on fellow blogger mom’s Instagram feeds. “Can I just be you?” “Your life is perfect!” Okay, so I’ve rarely ever heard such comments on my own Instagram feed (In fact, I’m not sure if I ever have…), but I have had friends in real life comment on how amazing my life seems, and that they wish they had my cool house or the time to do fun things (like crafts, or just their hair). It’s always a bit awkward when I receive those compliments, because sometimes they’re backhanded, and often they sound a bit self-deprecating. You wish you had the time? Oh really? SO DO I.

When I hear those comments while I’m at work behind the espresso machine, I want to retort with something like, “I wish I had the time to be out at Starbucks once a week spending money on overpriced lattes before I cart my kids off to Target where I buy them cute clothes and those squeezy packs of food that they’ll for sure eat and not throw over the edge of the high chair like Lucy does with the food I thoughtfully make with the time I don’t have.” Much of my life is spent scurrying home from a barista job so I can bust out work (that I enjoy doing) for A Beautiful Mess, so that I can maybe have time to consider what (or if) I can make for dinner (that Lucy won’t reject), and trying not to completely neglect my kiddo when Phil brings her home from Mom’s house, where she’s been lovingly cared for while I work. During days I don’t work at Starbucks, I often stay in my pajamas (Phil’s big gray sweatpants and Duke sweatshirt), makeup smudges under my eyes because I was too exhausted to wash my face the night before or that morning, hoping that whatever project I’m photographing that day won’t betray an embarrassing reflection of my appearance.

You guys, I’m not trying to say that I don’t enjoy my life, or that I don’t have nice things. I do! But so do you! I sometimes have a hard time making it to the weekend, and once the weekend is here, it often means just more work for me, because the babysitter (Phil) is home to help around the house. Life is not all fun and games. But I try not to portray the negativity that I sometimes feel, the anxiety, or the cluttered house. That kind of stuff can be a downer to read. But for the sake of dispelling any misconceptions that my (or any other blogger’s) life is like a magazine, I thought I’d share some confessions from this blogger mom.

I’ve never cleaned the bathroom in our house. Not ever. Don’t worry, Phil does. And we agreed on this being his chore, but I still feel really guilty about it for some reason. Gender stereotypes, perhaps?

I rarely put my toothbrush away, and the TP roll only sometimes makes it onto the roll holder by the toilet. Also- look! I have ugly toothbrushes and normal toothpaste. My lotion was a gift from Bath & Body Works, and isn’t something like the beautifully designed Aesop products that all the cool bloggers seem to be all about these days.

I wear Phil’s sweatshirts and sweatpants more often than not on my work-at-home days. I’m trying to remedy this, because I don’t feel good when I dress like that. A nice alternative, I’m finding, is a comfortable button-up shirt with a loose fitting jumper. You know, something like what Debra Barone would wear in Everybody Loves Ramond. Again- not so cool, eh? 

I haven’t shaved my legs since being in Florida during the first week of January. Or my armpits for that matter. This isn’t a feminist stance, but rather a lack of time for luxuriously long showers. When I do happen to shave my legs, I just feel like it’s a huge waste of time that could be better spent on something else- even if it’s just relaxing on the sofa watching Netflix. Priorities, people.

We have garish plastic toys and foam mats at our house. In our one and only living room, not our nonexistent playroom.

I’ve finally figured out how to keep my houseplants alive, but I can’t keep them on the floor. I thought I could be super mom and teach my 1 1/2 year old about obeying and not playing in houseplant dirt. But I’m tired of cleaning up dirt four times a day.

Those houseplants are in the ugly plastic containers that they came in at the hardware store. That’s right, I don’t buy my houseplants from beautiful nurseries that make for cool photo shoots or Instagram shots.

I saved up and bought Lucy one of those beautiful Blabla Bunnies, but it’s probably her least favorite toy. But hey, it looks good in pictures, I guess.

Our dining room table is constantly covered with power tools and project supplies. I’m working on finding a better way to deal with constantly working on projects in our tiny house. But I just can’t seem to find the time to get everything organized and built, or the money to gather the supplies.

I let Lucy watch TV while I work on projects. She doesn’t always watch tv, and she is happy to play by herself or read books lots of the time, but when she gets fussy, and I can’t stop working on something, I turn to Daniel Tiger for his wonderful babysitting abilities. 

I was so proud of myself for making sugar-free banana oat cookies for Lucy, and then I ate half the batch myself.  

My friends (and I) all think I’m a coffee snob, but lately I’ve been microwaving my second cup of coffee about five times a day.

I bought a pack of sugar cookies to use for a photo prop, and then I ate them all while Lucy napped. And then I felt really bad about it. I’ve been giving in to stress eating more and more often these days, which is making me more stressed.

When I want to take an Instagram photo, I move things out of the background so my house looks clean. 

I hesitate to do more kitchen related posts, even though my life tends to revolve around the kitchen, because I don’t think it’s pretty enough to take pictures in. I realized how pathetic that seems, once I typed it out.

There are plenty more things to say about how unglamorous my life is, but it’s way more fun to pretend that everything is beautiful and fulfilling in my life, so that’s the side of my life that I tend to share with you, when I have time that is. I’ve been trying not to stress about getting posts up as frequently here, because I would just rather spend that extra time with family and friends. I’m sure you get it. And I’m sure you’re not sitting here clicking refresh and wondering when a new post will pop up. But I do enjoy sharing things with you all here, though even more so, I enjoy the sense of camaraderie with you all and fellow bloggers on social media, like Instagram. Just let’s not get too caught up in appearances, ‘kay? We’re all just regular ol’ humans, after all!

Do you remember when the internet was still a novelty, and everyone was really scared to tell anyone if they were at the grocery store, much less if they were out of state, leaving their home completely vacant and ripe for the picking? Well, now many of us have become foolish internet users and cavalierly share our every out-of-town move with both friends and strangers on social media sites like Instagram and Twitter. I suppose it’s all a part of our generation’s seeming need for instant feedback, whether it be in regards to the enjoyment of a(nother) beautiful sunset, a delicious pastry, or to brag about the sunny and warm weather I’m enjoying while my neighbors are at home shoveling their driveways. It’s like we can’t resist.

Well, maybe you’ve figured it out from my Instagram pictures geotagged at Sanibel Island with pictures of sandy beaches that would seem mighty out of place in Northeast Ohio right about now… but yep. I’m on vacation, kids! I’ll be down here with my family for two and a half weeks total before I go home, but right now Phil’s back at home holding down the fort. While I’ve been enjoying this #grabervacation with all of its perfect bike rides, delicious meals, walks on the beach, and games of volleyball, the internet has barely worked, and since I don’t have a smart phone, I’ve been ignoring the fact that you all exist and soaking in much more than the sun- I’ve been actually enjoying this time with family without the urge to take photos, Tweet clever or just plain ridiculous things, or to let anyone know how fun of a time I’ve been having. Until, now, I guess, but this doesn’t count because I’m only sharing one photo and there’s a moral to this story. Wait for it….

One night on this vacation, my brother, his girlfriend, and Phil joined me to a late night showing of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I’m always skeptical of remakes of favorite movies, but this one was more than a remake. It was a beautiful, incredibly thoughtful, and absolutely perfect remaking of the original Danny Kaye flick. I can’t gush enough about it, but I’m afraid if I tell you more about how I feel, this will be a never-ending post. So I’ll just say this. Walter Mitty lived a boring life until all of a sudden he experiences such beautiful, adventurous, and incredible things, but when they happen to him, he doesn’t even tell anyone about it. And it was a little frustrating to watch, honestly. But then I realized a part of the movie that wasn’t played up and didn’t hit the audience over the head with its meaning, but is so applicable to our modern lives. One of the minor characters encapsulates this great sentiment during a particularly powerful moment of the film. He’s a photographer chasing the elusive snow leopard, and finally gets the perfect shot in his viewfinder. But when it happens, he just looks at the snow leopard in awe, and doesn’t snap the picture. He says something to the effect that he would rather cherish the moment himself, treasuring it in his memory, than to take the photo and share it with the world. Sharing the moment would somehow defile it and shatter its perfection. After watching that scene, it occurred to me that Walter Mitty’s privacy about his amazing adventures was his way of cherishing them.

How many moments do I have that I don’t think, “Oh, I need to Tweet that- it’s hilarious!” Or, “Hmmm, I wonder what my Facebook friends would think about this?” Orrrr… here’s a good one- “Let’s try that again, only prettier, so I can post it on Instagram.” Moment. Ruined. This realization in conjunction with my lack of internet on this island has really made this vacation a great one so far. And it’s been a little reminder about how nice life is when I really, truly unplug. A new year is a great time to reconsider these things, isn’t it? I am resolving to consider less how my life appears on social media or even placing importance on sharing incredible or beautiful moments with my online friends. Life is full of little moments that are so fulfilling and are blessings given to us to enrich our time on earth. So here I am on a beautiful island with my family, watching my baby girl pick up her first shells and play in her first waves. And I’m only posting one picture on my blog. So maybe I’m not such a foolish internet user after all, eh?

I don’t know how it started. Somehow I got sucked in, and the next thing I knew, it was one in the morning. And I was glued to my computer screen looking at real estate websites, seriously considering what it would take to sell our house and buy a new one across town. This was only last week, but after a lot of soul searching, I’ve come to my senses. I think. You see, during that whirlwind romance with one special mid century modern home five miles away, I discovered a few things about how the culture around me has affected the way I view life. Maybe you feel the same.

The home I was admiring from in front of my computer was something we could easily afford, and it could use just the right amount of work, but not too much to intimidate someone like me. It had a sunken living room- something I’d always dreamed of, and have become increasingly obsessed with since Don and Megan Draper’s apartment in season five of Mad Men. I was literally laying awake thinking about how I would arrange the furniture, and what kind of flooring we would instal. After two days of this, I realized I had sunken back into my old habit. It was a bad habit that I thought I had outgrown when I learned I had cancer last year.

Facing your immortality after a cancer diagnosis can be a really great thing. You start analyzing your life, focusing in on things that are really important, and cutting out a lot of the stuff that just takes up extra space. I got real with myself and considered how much energy and hopes I tend to put into planning for my future. A future which isn’t even guaranteed to me. I spent many of my thoughts planning on what I would buy next, how we would decorate our living room when we had the money, how I would style my hair when it finally grew out, what clothes I would enjoy wearing when I lost weight, and how fun life would be when we started having children. So much of my life was wrapped up in planning for things, that I failed to fully enjoy the things that were happening right then.

Last week when I found myself unrealistically planning another house move- what could have been the fifth move in six years, I realized I was settling into my old ways of thinking. I had stopped enjoying our house, because I wanted to start planning out a new one. I was ready for the next project, a new challenge, and certainly a bit of an upgrade. Have I become addicted to redecorating and home planning? Has reading too many design blogs made me unhappy with the little home that we already have? Good golly, I think these are real issues that weren’t exactly deleted with my cancer-self-discoveries.

These days, with the influx of design blogs, accessibility to so much inspiration on Pinterest and elsewhere, it’s become increasingly normal to lead a discontented lifestyle. I’m not willing to give up on Pinterest or blogs altogether, but what kind of habits can I get into that will help me deal with my urges to upgrade and renovate? I don’t have the money for that kind of lifestyle, and it’s certainly not a healthy state to live in, emotionally speaking. For one, I’ve decided to stay off of real estate websites until we’re actually planning on making a move and the money’s in the bank. I don’t even want to be tempted, as fun as it is to see what’s out there. And something else I’d like to do is to enjoy time in my home, without looking around and thinking about what I want to change. It will take a lot of mental control to stop those thoughts from clouding my mind, but I think the effort will be worth it in the end.

So we’ll be in our house for a few more years at least. And I’m going to work on loving what we have, and admiring beautiful homes in magazines without allowing them to make mine feel inadequate. We don’t live in a magazine, and that’s okay. Our home is where life happens, and that’s why it’s special.