The Perfectly Imperfect Identity

Let me start by saying I lied.  Great way to start a blog, right?  I am not a housewife.  More like a house-girlfriend.  I live with my boyfriend of 2+ years, Kyle.  We have a three-year-old daughter, Evangeline, and a 5-month-old son, Graham.  After working full-time for three years, the opportunity arose two months ago for me to be a stay-at-home-mom and “housewife”(along with an online student).

I’ve always hoped for the stay-at-home-mom lifestyle. The ability to teach my children, clean the house, and have dinner on the table when my husband got home.  A perfect little world.  WHAT A BUNCH OF CRAP.  Do you realize how hard it is to maintain a household with a rampant three-year-old?  I’m lucky if a load goes in the washing machine.  And I mean ONE load in the WASHER.  The dryer is another day.  My daughter’s clean clothes have been sitting in the laundry room for five days because I haven’t made it back to them.  I’m too busy picking up the living room and kitchen constantly.

Now, I love Kyle.  He is amazing in so many ways and does so much for me.  And I love his family dearly.  They’re the best in-laws you could ask for.   His mother is the type of mother and wife I aspire to be.  She can make a recipe for the first time and it will look exactly like the picture.  My creations, on the other hand, are straight off the “Pinterest Fail” board.  Kyle grew up in a clean household with home cooked meals, and he deserves to have that continued. But when your mother-in-law is Martha Stewart and you’re Lucille Ball, you tend to feel a little subpar and it’s hard to find your importance.

When your life consists mostly, wait, who am I kidding?  When your life consists solely of your children, it is very easy to lose yourself.  I’m turning 25 in a month, and that’s exactly how I feel (don’t roll your eyes, that’s a life-changing number for me).  Since having children, my overall appearance has changed.  My once beautiful curly hair has become a frizzed out lion’s mane, my perky girls are now stretched out tube socks, and my tiny-not-an-ounce-of-fat figure has become Santa’s bowl-full-of-jelly.

On a deeper level, my soul identity is gone.  Before kids I was my own person.  Now?  I’m a mom.  It’s like no one sees “you” anymore.  So, this is my place, and I’d like to share my place with other mom’s who are trying to find themselves again.  While “perfect” doesn’t exist, the “perfect you” does (being corny doesn’t make that statement any less true).  If that means laundry sits around forever, or you burn dinner every night, embrace it.

So, I started this blog for all the perfectly imperfect housewives and mother’s.  We’re all just trying to keep our children alive while not completely losing ourselves.

Perfectly Yours,

Samantha