perfect is boring.

A lot has been going through my head lately- lots about parenting. To be honest, I never thought about it before Ryse was born. I just saw happy little couples with their kids dressed to a tee out bee-bopin around like the rest of the world. I didn't see how long it took them to get out of the house, how many outfits were changed 5 minutes after they should have left, how many hours of sleep that mom didn't get, and how many spankings that adorable little girl got that week. I didn't see the mom and dad fighting over rules, or how to spank, or how clean a house should be with kids, or what money they should use to buy clothes, diapers, and pay hospital bills. I just saw an adorable family, smiling. (Probably smiling because they finally got out of the house.)

So here I am. Two little girls. 1 and 2. Adorable. Hilarious. Ornery. Disobedient. Attitudes. They say their mommy's girls. They want to cuddle with me when they're tired. They giggle at each other. They get excited to see the other one. They hit. They bite. They throw things. They don't sleep all night. They drive me crazy. They are my everything and if something should happen to either one, I'd rather die.

When we hang out with people 9 times out of 10 their kids are calmer. They obey faster. They eat better. I could compare all day. But I'm learning...that gets me no where but frustrated. Today I had lunch with my mom. Both girls were fussy and getting louder and louder. She wasn't bothered by it at all, but after a while she leans over to Symira and imitates her whiny scream. Please tell me you used to do that to us when we were little. She did. She lost her mind some days. She had the girls laughing so hard about 5 minutes later while bouncing them on the couch. She told stories how she used to do that to us when we were little. I so bad wish I could watch her when we were little. I'd do exactly what she did.

We didn't have a long list of rules. We weren't allowed to say shut up. We weren't allowed to hurt each other. We weren't allowed to fight. We were allowed to make a pile of pillows and blankets at the top of the stairs and tumble all the way down, arms and legs everywhere. We were allowed to all wear football pads and have at it. We were allowed to take our dishes outside to make mud pies. We even filled the basement with water and slid around in our swimsuits in it (I remember something very similar in the bathroom). I'm not sure what we were allowed to do that, but I'm 99% sure we didn't get spanked for it. We cleaned Saturdays, the rest of the week, we made messes. We had fun.

In high school I had curfews with boyfriends. No curfew with friends. My single mother, working more than a full time job, was so tired she never knew when we came home. I was never criticized for grades. I went to all the dances with who I wanted to. I don't remember ever being grounded (not to say it didn't happen). I remember watching mom cry because I disappointed her, I hurt her feelings, or she was exhausted from arguing with me. I remember sitting at the end of the bed with her devotional open and she showed me how the decisions I was making were going to kick me in the butt later. I watched her succeed. I watched her fail. I followed her.

We were disobedient sometimes. We obeyed sometimes. We were sometimes the good kids, sometimes the bad. We weren't the smartest, we weren't the dumbest. We excelled in some areas. Some not. We sat in detentions. We were at every youth group activity & loved it. We had big opinions. This is what I want for my girls. Not to be the best at everything, but find one or two things you love and pour yourself into it. To love everyone...the popular kids, and the 'losers'. Not to strive for perfection, but to strive to be unique. To have an opinion. To be ornery but upright.

Today was so good for me. To be reminded of how I was raised. It wasn't perfect. It was balanced.

It wasn't perfect. It was balanced. I hope my girls say that someday.