I Am NOT a Pintrist Mom!

I’ve looked through Pintrist and I’ve just been in awe over some of the things that these people are doing! It amazes me that any one has the time, effort, money, endless creativity… to create so many Pintrist things to one up all the other moms. I am by no means a Pintrist mom. I do have a Pintrist page which I like to pin my recipes to. While I’m great at making my son all his own baby food (I’ve never given him store-bought baby food), I’m not one who wraps up perfect little gifts with perfect little bows. I’m also not the mom who can expertly decorate cakes. I’m just a mom who loves her son and tries to do the best she can every day. Some days we get lots done and I feel like Supermom. Other days, we’re lucky if little man makes it out of his pajamas when we go to the store.

I know I’m not the only mom out there who feels inferior to the Pintrist Moms. How do they do it? What is their secret? When I look at these pins from them I want to be like them. I want to be a Pintrist Mom. Then reality hits. Do I really want to be a Pintrist Mom? Well, I do in the sense that I want to be a “Stepford Wife”. I want a nice and beautiful life with perfect hair, a tidy house, a husband who brings home flowers, a son that never cries, dogs that always obey… We all secretly want perfect lives, but if we had them, we wouldn’t be us! I love the picture I have of my dog looking up at me after digging in the flower bed. His entire snout is covered in dirt. If I got flowers every day, they wouldn’t mean as much so the little things my husband does do, mean the world to me. If my son never cried, I wouldn’t find the quiet times so wonderful.

So no, I’m not a Pintrist Mom, I’m not a Stepford Wife. I’m Me! I can’t draw a horse (my husband will attest to that), my cupcakes are not all the same size, I bought my Christmas cards from Costco rather than making them like a scrapbook, I don’t take the dead leaves and sticks and make them into centerpieces. I’ll never be that perfect mom and that’s OK. I have a perfectly imperfect life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

This will never be my house

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