It’s hard out there for a mommy blogger.

I feel like everywhere I look, I see these highly styled, polished and professional photos that make it look like moms everywhere are absolutely crushing it. And I’m over here like “how in the world…?”

Social media paints an unrealistic picture of what life as a mom is really like, in my opinion. Just like print media, TV and movies, it creates incredibly high standards that we think we need to meet in order to look like we’ve got it together.

The main reason I started blogging in the first place was to try to keep it real about what mommin’ is really like. To be authentic in sharing my stories. The good, bad and ugly.

Reading other mom’s stories about their struggles to and through motherhood have made me feel less alone. Particularly when I was experiencing the anxiety of pregnancy loss. Wondering if it was even in the cards for me to become a mother.

That’s why I do what I do. If it helps to normalize one woman’s experience, or make another feel like less of a fuck up, then it’s worth it.

So let me tell you the reality of this mom’s #momlife. It not all professionally posed shots of perfectly prepped Instant Pot meals. Or super on-trend and well styled outfits that I wear on a daily basis.

It’s crumbs on my kitchen floor that I walk past pretending not to notice for weeks on end.

Or dirty dishes in the sink that pile up for days before someone finally does them.

It’s wearing make up maybe twice a month. Because I no longer have the time or energy to do my face before I leave for work. And being perfectly okay with rocking’ a “fresh face” on the daily.

Or being perpetually late to work even though I set my alarm for 6:30 a.m., but don’t get up until 7:20 every day. Because at nearly 4 years old, my child still doesn’t sleep through the night on a regular basis.

It’s counting down the days until my child goes to school in our neighborhood. Because the daily one hour round trip commute to get him after school is really starting to wear me down. Even though I know we chose to put him in a school in a different suburb because it’s one of the best schools around. And that is privilege at it’s finest.

Or letting my husband do the lion’s share of the cooking. Because I literally don’t have it in me to try to figure out what to make, and then cook, after i get home from work. And feeling so grateful that he is willing to do so.

It’s taking a day off from work to clean my house on a quarterly basis. Because I can’t keep up otherwise. Especially when the weekends are so busy.

Or noticing dried boogers on my sweatshirt that I’m not entirely sure I can blame on my child. And simply flicking them off and continuing to wear said sweatshirt.

It’s doing yoga in my basement at 9:00 p.m. Because that’s the only time I can seem to squeeze in a “workout”. Once my child is finally in bed.

Or re-writing the same “to do” list in my planner several times. Because one month has turned into another and I still haven’t checked all of the things off of said list.

It’s needing a break from “all of the things”. And then feeling guilty for taking time to myself, instead of spending it with my son.

It’s feeling like I’m not doing enough. Even though I know I’m probably doing too much.

It’s literally all of those things and more.

But I wouldn’t trade any of it. For anything.

Because being a mom to my son is literally the best thing I have ever done. It is the most favorite job I have ever had. And it doesn’t even feel like a job. It’s a privilege.

So, when you see pictures of me that makes it seem like I’ve really got my shit together and I’m living my best life – I am. Living my best life. But I don’t even remotely have my shit together.

And now you know. Plus, I probably took that picture on one of the 2 days a month I miraculously had time to put some make up on my face anyway.

So don’t let those Instagram posts fool you. I guarantee that behind that beautifully filtered photo is a mom who is feeling and experiencing exactly these same things.

When you see a picture that makes you question yourself, just remember:

You are crushing it.

You are beautiful.

You are worthy.

Go on and do you Momma. You’ve got this.

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