“The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel.”

I had an interesting conversation with a few friends the other day after reading an article about the most stressful number of kids {three, apparently} . After hashing out our collective inadequacies, it seems the general consensus was that we all mostly struggled with the dreaded feeling as if we could never “keep up”.

But, honestly, who are we trying to keep up with? Our friends, who are struggling just as much? Celebrities? Our own mothers?  Super-mom bloggers who have seemingly boundless energy, creativity, and husbands with perfectly organized garages chock full of tools that allow them to build and DIY everything?  {<—-BINGO}

 I love Pinterest, and blogland makes me happy. I love the burst of creative inspiration I get from seeing what other people come up with.  However, it often leaves me feeling like I’m not keeping up. My house isn’t perfect, my kid throws HUGE fits at the grocery store, and I bribe him with chocolate chips to take a nap most days {#that’snotpaleo}. My garage is the place where dreams of productivity go to die because it is so disorganized, and my dogs keep digging up my garden.

Also known as perfectly freaking normal.

However, I struggle because I am constantly comparing myself to the seemingly perfect lives of those in my social circle, and my social-network circle. And they, just like me, are not posting and sharing those crazy moments where you think you might *actually*  get in the car and take off for Mexico, but the perfectly edited moments of bliss and cuteness that we sometimes forget exist in our own lives because we’re so busy focusing on the grit.

So, this is my mid-year resolution. STOP COMPARING. My house, my body, my kid, my clothes, everything. Work on being happy with what I have, which, to be honest, is pretty damn awesome. I have my dream house, a curly blonde- headed monkey that is pretty much perfect 98% of the time, a great fiance that not only allows me to stay home with G, but lets me start 1,475,879 Pinterest-induced projects, and rarely complains about them. Sure, there are days {like yesterday} where I consider packing a bag for Baja, but I am going to allow myself to be content in my own joy. And sometimes { like yesterday}, my own misery.



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