Being a blogger & sharing my life now, for a few years, I've grown a "thick-skin-if-you-will" around other people commenting on my life. 


I've learn to take the "Car-Seat-Crusader" with a grain of salt but also have a respectful acceptance of learning to be safer for my kids. 



I've taken the hits for feeding my kids too many hotdogs or having the tv on in basically every picture I take, because only I know how picky my kids really are & how most days to survive, I need a little help from Paw Patrol. Only I know how hard it is to transition my daughter to a gluten-free diet because at 3 she was diagnosed with Celiac disease. And only I know how truly lazy I am, mixed in with an utter dislike for cooking, how many days I've had to get a pizza delivered. 



I've somehow, even been able to train myself to feel a sadness instead of anger when ignorant, unnecessarily mean people make comments like, "You should have aborted her or she's a strain on tax payers" on a picture of my daughter Pip, who just happens to have Down syndrome. 



I've realized that some people like my sense of humour, while others find me optimistically annoying. I've accepted that I can change some people's views about certain issues dear to my heart, while others don't understand why I fight the fight I do. I've heard that some people like my hair, style, home & clothes, while others think it's all a hot-bloody-mess. And I've learn that while some people think I'm a bad mom, most know I'm an-absolute-fan-freaking-tastic one. 



Cause I am. Truly.



Wanna know how I know?




All 3 of my kid's faces light up when they see me. 



They know they are loved, so very, loved. 



And they are happy. They are kind. They are confident, hilarious little souls that deserve to be celebrated.



Yesterday I posted about how my husband & I got to spend a little alone time with our oldest son. 


"Noal was only 7mths old when I became pregnant with Pip, so all he has ever known is life with his sister. We try & do things with Noal to carve out time & make him feel special, but typically that means it's one on one with either me or my husband. We don't normally get the chance to both just be with him, without Pip. Tonight we watched him play road hockey & then took him out to grab a hotdog. Nothing overly special, but watching him love up the attention from both of us, made me realize we need to try & do this more."


From that post, a comment was made that has been swirling around in my mind all day. It was made in the tone of a "Momma Judge" - a passively, aggressive tone that comes off as being a perfect-momma-who-seems-to-have-figured-out-this-whole-parenting-thing. And if that's the case, Sweet Jesus, I'm happy for you. 


But me, I haven't figured it out yet. I'm learning day by day. I clearly make mistakes, my kids consume way too much food outta a box, we dance more than the average ballerina, our screen time quota would probably blow some minds & I don't let them cry it out EVER - But, that's the point. It's not meant to be perfect. It's not meant to be the same for all of us - It's just meant to work and be this big, beautiful chaos that makes your head spin. It's meant to be such a whirlwind, that when you look back, like all the good parents do, you think "Man, time flew."


And because life moves faster than any of us want, and because time is precious, why waste it judging how another momma does anything? 


Let's lift each other up, clinking glasses & toasting to just surviving another day. Let's learn to celebrate the small things. Like I was trying to yesterday.


Yesterday I chose to celebrate alone time with my son. I celebrated the look of pride when he scored a goal, I celebrated the funny stories he told cause he had my full attention and I celebrated the fact that I knew he felt very, very loved. 


Every day, in some way, I celebrate them and that ain't gonna change my friends. So, by all means, if you have to, judge my carseat installation, throw me under the bus about the consumption of hotdogs in our house but let me decide what is worth celebrating. Let me be the one to determine what I'm grateful for each day. Let me be the one to find beauty in the imperfect chaos. 


k, thanks...