This is Real Life | Cersey Says...

I was searching through some mom blogs last night—you know, to get some ideas and see if I fit in the booming community of mommy bloggers—and I didn’t feel too good about my prospects. Maybe I was looking in the wrong places, but all I saw was a lot of picture perfect food, picture perfect DIY crafts, picture perfect kids, and picture perfect fashionistas. (Hold please while I take care of an interruption from my toddler requesting candy. I said no, she pitched a fit and now she “will never love me again.” Moving on.) As I was saying, there are tons of amazing blogs out there that show you pictures of life on their utopian planet. I’d love to visit sometime, but I don’t think I could afford it.

So, I thought it might be nice for you other earth dwellers like me to see a freshly new, but not so fresh looking post about real life. Disclaimer: If at any time during this post you feel like you…(Please hold while I adoringly admire the picture my daughter just scribbled before her head explodes due to lack of attention.)…cannot relate at all then I might suggest you buy a plane ticket to Utopia. On the other hand, if this post makes you feel better about your life, then my goal has been achieved.

Viv scribble — She’s a cute little scribbler. Too bad she scribbled on her ballet skirt after this picture was taken.

Okay, let’s start in the bedrooms, shall we? I don’t know about you guys, but it seems impossible to keep bedrooms tidy. My boys used to share a bedroom, but then we moved our younger son, Drake, to our guest room. We never actually redecorated the room, we just put him in the guest bed one night and a year later he’s still there, like a permanent little visitor in a temporary room. He doesn’t even have a dresser or closet space (the closet is full of crap I don’t know what to do with.) So, poor Drake lives out of Tupperware bins.

Because Drake’s room doesn’t yet feel like his own, it never gets too dirty and the kids spend their time playing in the other two kids’ bedrooms. (Please hold while I go lay the smack down on my 2 boys and their 3 playmates for yelling and thundering through my house like vikings running to battle…The warning has been issued, but I fear it will do little good. This is what I get for trying to write a post in the middle of the afternoon.) As I was saying, the other kids’ rooms get the brunt of the messes. Here are some shots of the toys piled in corners after a good “cleaning”.

I’d say it’s time to fill a few garbage bags and make a run to Goodwill.

I suppose I can’t blame my kids too much for their messy habits because this is what it looks like next to my bed…

I don’t even know what’s in that storage bin. It’s been there for years.

Of course we have to touch on the nightmare that is laundry, and more specifically, the terrifying number of lost socks. I kid you not, my laundry room is a black hole, but only for one of the mates in a pair of socks. Poor socks never know who will come out on the other side of a washing, but one thing is for certain, solitude is guaranteed either way. Dun, dun, DUN!

Yes, this almost entirely single socks. Or at least unmatched socks. — Yes, this is almost entirely single socks. Or at least unmatched socks.

So, I’ve been remodeling my dining room for the past…umm, 2 months and I’m slowly making progress. It’s actually going pretty quickly compared to the time it took 6 months to remodel one of our closets. Anyway, I’ll do a post another time with before and after shots of the dining room (maybe when it’s done at least my dining room will pass as a utopian worthy area), but this is what it looks like in the interim…

I should add that this is the first room you see when you walk in my house. At least it’s honest and prepares you for what’s to come should you venture further.

Here are just a few other spaces in my house that might make you feel better about yourself…

The kitchen counter that collects the what-do-I-do-with-this? stuff that will never be touched again. Yes, there's a fish back there and I'm pretty sure he's still alive. — The kitchen counter that collects the what-do-I-do-with-this? stuff that will never be touched again. Yes, there’s a fish back there and I’m pretty sure he’s still alive.

The craft box, where children's artwork goes to die. — The craft box, where children’s artwork goes to die.

Then there is the pièce de résistance…the chair ravaged by wild dogs. Just kidding. It wasn’t dogs. It was my boys. I guess they might as well be dogs since I can literally hear them growling in the living room right now. In the picture below you can even see another chair in the background that has the springs popping out of the bottom…

It almost looks like the cozy coupe is hiding behind the chair for dear life. And it should hide. Only the strongest toys survive here.

You might be surprised to hear that I actually have someone come and clean my house every week. She and her cleaning posse wipe down the exposed surfaces, so my house isn’t “dirty”, it’s just cluttered. There’s a difference. What? There is! Just go with it. I mean look, from a distance things don’t look too bad.

So, that’s life at my house. I’m hoping to channel my inner Joanna Gaines and whip this place into shape someday soon, but then again, someday is where plans go to die. To stay congruous with other bloggers that show perfect pictures then claim to be imperfect, I will say that despite appearances of imperfection, my life is perfect. Perfectly imperfect.