Sometimes

I know this will come as a shock, but:

Sometimes things around here are more Bunker than Rockwell.

Sometimes my kids are not perfect.

Sometimes they drive me out of my mind with their constant bickering, yelling, and wrestling.

Sometimes my kids are disrespectful.

Sometimes I am disrespectful.

Sometimes I want to come here and vent about how difficult it is to raise girls in a society willing to tell them how inadequate they are even before they have had a chance to see themselves.

Sometimes I struggle with the frustration of trying to teach our girls that material things are not the important things in life while, also, trying to keep my middle schooler in the latest clothing fad because I remember being the only kid in school without Nikes.

Sometimes middle school sucks and middle school girls are mean spirited little people.

Sometimes my kids eat cereal for dinner.  With added sugar.

Sometimes they go to bed without showers.  On school nights.  After staying up too late.

Sometimes they eat store bought cookies.

Sometimes the laundry isn't clean, the dishes aren't done, and the windows aren't washed.

Sometimes I open this page and stare at the blinking cursor trying to come up with the cute thing Addison said or the smart thing Harper did, and I have to just close the page without writing a single word because I just don't have it in me to cheerful.

 And, it's okay. 

Because it is who we are.

I started this blog as a means to document our days for the girls, but I have struggled because I wanted it to be a happy place for them (and for the family reading), but I also want it to be an authentic place.  So, I'm going to be more honest here.  I'm going to write about the struggles sometimes.  I'm going to maintain my girl's privacy, I won't go into too much detail, but I'm going to shove aside the expectations of a cheery, perfect little glimpse of who we are, and I am going to make this a place of balance, which, actually, is much more perfect anyway.

Sometimes.