It seems that I come across two types of blogs in my genre of choice (this crunchy parenting thing). I used to enjoy reading both types--inspired, smiling. And now I only relate to one, and want to wipe mud on the walls of the other.
Type 1: The Perfect Life. These moms have it all together. They sew all their own clothes and cook everything from scratch from foods they grew in their own garden. Their children are leaps and bounds ahead in milestones and clean up after themselves meticulously. They don't own a television, they never yell at one another, and their photographs are just as beautiful as their spotless children and thoughtful homes.
Type 2: The Rest of Us.
Lily loathes my art project ideas. The closest thing to homemade I've served this week was a slow cooker meal in which I opened a bunch of canned foods, threw them on top of chicken, and turned it on for 6 hours. Lily forgets about her mission to pick up the crayons she flung all over the room before she even starts it. I nag at Art and he nags at me. I cleaned the house this weekend and it looks worse now than when I started. See aforementioned nagging. Lily seems to exist entirely on orange juice and breast milk, other than when we're around other kids and she eats all of their food instead of ours.
I should clean, cook, play, work--heck, even knit--and somehow an entire day goes by and I've accomplished absolutely nothing.
I'm sure tomorrow (or next week) I'll be able to write a million happy things I love, but...
Okay, Lily just threw herself on me with a, "Mommy? Hug!" Cue melting and a slightly more optimistic outlook on today.