I thought writing a blog would be fun. I wanted to fill it with fabulous and interesting posts. To have tons of followers. To have beautiful pictures and useful tutorials. The thing is though, I'm not a fabulous or overly interesting person. Most of what I have to say will be interesting to no one outside of my immediate family. I'm not a photographer and I'm not talented or creative enough to teach people how to do things. And truthfully, I'm okay with that. A year ago, I wasn't though.
I felt like I needed to have everything together, to fill this space with posts about wonderfully structured days spent crafting and baking and learning with my well dressed and always clean children. I felt like I needed my days to be perfect so people would want to read about them. That is the point of writing a blog, isn't it?
Here's the thing though. My days aren't perfect. And the harder I try to make them perfect, the worse they are.
So as I realized this, I began to let go. And do you know what I noticed? Our days sure aren't perfect but they have a lot of perfect moments. Those moments are never the ones I wrote down on my schedule for the day. I didn't plan to spend two hours in front of the fire reading The Long Winter with my 6 year old while the little ones napped. I certainly didn't schedule 45 minutes to chase a rogue chicken back into her coop in the dark (and spending that entire time laughing so hard my muscles ached). These unplanned, often messy but oh so perfect moments are the ones I want to remember. They're what make our life interesting and special. They're the stories we'll tell at family dinners for years to come.
I'm back in this space with a new perspective. I want to document these imperfect days exactly as they are: messy, cluttered and full of perfect moments. They're the moments that are often forgotten in the haze of sleep deprivation and never ending laundry pile. They're also the moments that deserve the most recognition.
A lot has changed since the last time I wrote and now I'm excited to share it all. Because there's no pressure to make it look any different than it really is: beautifully imperfect.