A Blogging Life

I have this friend who writes a blog and I like it. It's a good blog. She's a good writer, she has a way with words that I'm jealous of. But sometimes, I have to make the difficult decision to not read her blog. Some days, it makes me feel bad. It's not her fault, it's all me. But guys, for real, her blog makes it sound like her life is perfect. Her house is beautiful, her kids seem like the ideal, and she just loves her life. She negotiates through the daily grind unlike anyone I've ever met. She constantly talks about how much she loves being a wife and mom. She is always eating incredibly healthy and she takes pictures of her kids playing in such clean spaces. And you know what, that is what I want. She is amazing and I admire her.
I want the motivation to eat healthy but guess what, I love me some tootsie rolls and potato chips. And you better believe after cleaning up that seventeenth half eaten snack that I had to prepare just so they can throw it on the floor and ask for something different, I'mma treat myself. When I take pictures of my kids I frame the shot so there is minimal evidence of the huge mess surrounding them. I suck at keeping my house clean. I've said it once and I'll say it again, if I could pick any talent, it would be to be able to keep my house clean. While my friend seems to thrive on the daily grind, there are some days where I think "if I have another day life this one. I'm going to stop trying. Tomorrow I will do nothing and it will end the same." Some days I just wish my kids came pre parented and my role was an occasional life lesson. (Is it okay to say that? I don't even know) and oh geez. Kids man. Kids are tough. I love them. There is absolutely nothing better than being the one with the magic kisses or being the one whose hugs make it all okay. Or how about when I pick my kids up from nursery or preschool, and they yell mama and give me a running hug. Or when I see them playing nicely together. It melts my little heart. But some days they cry and scream and kick and bite and won't eat anything (except each other) and won't sleep (seriously what's  with kids not wanting to sleep? That might be the most incomprehensible thing in the universe to me) Having a three year old, a two year old, and a one year old is no picnic. It's more like I'm the food and they are the ants.
Don't get me wrong, I love it. 9/10 days I couldn't imagine a better life. But that tenth day, man. Enough said. I'm sure my friend had tough days just like I do. I sure hope I hide it as well as she does. Although apparently not because I just wrote this post... hmm.  I guess it's probably okay though because even on the worst of those "tenth" days, I still get these cutie little sweeties.