First I want to get out into the world I hate Pinterest. Sydney Baye freakin' hates Pinterest.
Here's the catch. I still find myself on it from time to time. Maybe I'm sick. Like being tortured. But all Pinterest does for me is make me feel small.
Shit. I'm a terrible mother for not crafting enough with me kid. Or when I do craft it just looks like a blob of chaos and I usually end up frustrated.
Sure can't afford that.
Why don't I look good in leather pants.
Well that's wonderful...
What do they say in AA? "God, grant me the Serenity, to accept the things I can not change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference."
So I guess if I could pray that while scrolling through Pintrest to help me remember I;m not Martha Stewart, a perfect mother nor am I a supermodel billionaire.
Okay so that's how I/we feel with PIntrest. SO what's the difference between a fantasy blogg board and the fantasies we make up in our head.
These expectation we create for ourselves. Like taking pissy pills right before a fancy date night, vacations, a day with your kiddo or family photos.
End of that rant. I have a point but by this point in our relationship, ya'll know I'm a scattered thought millennial. You know, the entitled type.
I've had this envision of a perfect photo. One I've wanted for a long tome. Where I'm at total peace, my hair looks like I rolled out of bed but still on point, no makeup but still looking like a bombshell, my son is naked and embracing me as if I were the only person the world to him.
I wanted a back light, soft light shot on a messy bed, but perfectly messy, ya know?
Needed to be in a white tank, black full coverage panties but sexy, of course.
So. Get my settings right, hand my husband the camera and it begins.
My pissy ass attitude begins.
James, my almost three year old doesn't want to relax and embrace me. He wants to play, of course. He wants to kiss my forehead, not my lips. Throws himself back and laughs.
I notice my husband is taking the photos and the angle I told him too. He was too low. The sun is being covered my clouds.
F it. I think to myself.
Then I look at James laying on the bed staring at me. The sun is down but for some reason, his face is glowing.
I know you're thinking stop with the Notebook drama. We get it. You love your son.
Hear me out. Still getting to my point.
In that moment, I hated myself for not seeing how beautiful and perfect it was. I was consumed with my expectations of what I envisioned this being, I couldn't see how perfect it actually was.
James and Mitchell shower, I grab my computer, scroll the images and ugly cry.
In a nutshell.
You too Jones'
Don't let expectations cloud the beauty of reality... You can tattoo that