Ever since I began my love affair with Facebook, I have taken personal joy in posting funny/embarrassing things that happen to me and to my family, and recently people have asked me about doing a blog. I have long thought that blogs were pretty self-centered and wondered why anyone would want to read someone else's musings and personal insights, but to be honest, I am trying to put off sewing the five blankets I decided to make for Christmas. So here it is - the day I start my blog.
I am a person of order and quiet. I like things a certain way and I like the appearance of perfection. It has long been a blessing and a curse. I appear put together to the outside world, but inside is a constant comparison, a feeling that there is always more to be done and a fear that others will see that I am not perfect and then .... well then what? Stop being my friend? Judge me? Realize I have flaws? It's ridiculous. So in my perfect, ordered world, God saw what I needed, and I fell in love with a man who is constantly late, loves change, and is almost never quiet. He is spontaneous, outgoing, and pushes the boundaries of social propriety. But he is also funny, generous, charming and quick to forgive.
I remember our very first fight... we were putting up a Christmas tree together in the house we had just bought. I wanted an angel-themed, blue and silver tree and Gary wanted to put up all of his home-made, paper, and mismatched ornaments from his childhood. I cried, I insisted, he didn't back down. I was convinced the tree would look ugly, he didn't care. He wanted all of those old ornaments on our tree. At the time I was absolutely positive he was wrong, now I know it was me.
And then God sent me four children in seven years. Children who throw tantrums and pick out their own clothes. Children who say embarrassing things in public and refuse to wear the perfect outfits I pick out for them. But who are amazingly brilliant, loving, funny and adorable. And as my life became busier, my rules became impossible to maintain, and I began to see that most of the things I worried about didn't even matter. It only took eight or nine years, but I began to embrace that chaos was a part of my life. And even though there are days when the only thing I want is perfectly clean, quiet house, this life I have is the best life I could have imagined.
It's true, now my carpet has stains, my ceiling fans are dusty, my children leave the house in mismatched and sometimes dirty clothes, there are days when half-naked toddlers answer my door, and almost all of my dishes have chips in them, but at least I can laugh at the madness, find peace in the noise and realize that nothing is perfect, and most certainly not me.