Perfect

I need purpose.  So, I read other people's blogs and look for some similarity between my life and theirs. I don't like to read perfect blogs. People who have spotless houses and perfect bodies and perfect lives. I love me some real people. People who fight with their husbands, have children who aren't perfect, spend some days in pajamas, and let the laundry basket overflow. Those are my kind of people.

I am certainly not perfect. I am, however, semi-perfect. Like semi-sweet chocolate; a little bitter and a little sweet and the perfect combination.


I don't always wear make-up. And sometimes my husband finds me in the same clothes that he left me in that morning.

I love my husband who loves me despite everything. He even gets up early on Saturdays and lets me stay in bed while he fixes me amazing food that doesn't fit in with my diet.

I love my friends fiercely. I would do anything for them. For that matter, I love their children more.

I love my mama. Who lets me come over when my husband is playing golf and I can't stand to spend another day watching TLC and attempting Pinterest crafts alone. So, we craft them together.

No, my life is not perfect. But it's perfectly alright.