CONFESSIONS OF A FACEBOOK FAILURE FLASHBACK: Year 3 Day 15

Bringing back an old post for your punchlines.

My home will never, ever be featured in Homes and Gardens…unless, of course they were in need of a dramatic before shot or some sort of warning label. Our home is cluttered with hand-me-downs and thrift store finds and, I can assure you, that any aesthetic accomplishments are purely accidental. In all honesty, we have chosen a path in life that would never allow for the kind of beauty you’d find on a cover. We just can’t afford it. But, with equally genuine transparency, that is just how I like it. You see, while our old, questionably hygienic furniture, that should have been replaced a decade ago is surely not worthy of capturing on film, it is the perfect breeding ground for capturing moments, memories, and all of those other beauties of life that get pushed out when “beauty” is pushed in. I am grateful because when my kiddos bounce on our bed or do back flips on the couch, I don’t have to worry about “ruining the (fill in the blank…everything we own is old and deprecate)”, and in doing so ruining their moments that will become the memories that will be worth remembering one day. I am grateful for their tradition of making mountains of pillows in preparation for braving leaps from our bed. Grateful for the teamwork involved in their mischief and the rare moments without rivalry that come from letting them entertain themselves with potentially disastrous consequences. Grateful for our already disastrous life that is the perfect foundation for allowing in the chaos that brings the laughter and makes our home, a home. So truly, genuinely, absolutely, I am grateful for our hot mess family, and our hot mess children, and our hot mess home, because the beauty of our life is so much clearer when posed against it all. But please…just give me a 15 minute warning before you come-a-knockin’ so I can hide the chaos in the closet, wipe off the visible dirt, throw a blanket over the stains, and pretend that none of this madness is true. And if you surprise me in your hunt for a cover shot and I tell you that you just “caught me at a bad time,” know that I am lying. We will never, ever be your cover shot. We will always be the warning label. It is up to you to decide what that warning is. WARNING: “If you don’t pick up the pillow pile, you might end up looking like this” or WARNING: “If you keep picking up the pillow pile, you might miss the moments that feel just like this.” I think our choice is aesthetically evident.