I'm a blogger, y'all!

Sarah Street Photography
As a notorious over-sharer, I have been wanting to start a blog for a while. But, while I may have a lot to say, I've worried that no one would want to read it. Let’s be honest, I’m not that interesting. There are tons of blogs out there, and many are filled with beautiful people and places that make “normal” seem so boring. What do I have to offer?

In our Instagram culture, it’s easy to find yourself comparing and falling short. That Internet stranger is doing it big. My kitchen will never be as clean, my daughter will never be as well dressed, and heaven knows I'll never be as skinny. How do these moms even get their toddlers to pose so perfectly in those designer clothes? Meanwhile my kid is chasing the dog dressed only in grape jelly and a bow. Our reality is so much different than what we scroll through everyday.

And, y’all… that’s okay.

My girl is funny and sweet, and the absolute apple of my eye, but she isn’t perfect. She throws her food. Her favorite word is no. Our townhouse is small, and most of our furnishings come from the clearance racks of Target. We eat freezer meals and potato chips. We’ll probably never see Europe or drive brand new cars. My life is miles from “perfect,” but whoever said, “The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence,” never stepped one foot in my little yard. Our grass is patchy, and sometimes it hurts my feet, but it’s my favorite shade of green.

It’s so easy to find ourselves wishing, dreaming, envious, but I can promise you that the grass you’re standing in is the greenest grass in the world. From that smile your baby saves only for you to that inside joke that makes you laugh until you pee in your pants, there are millions of tiny pieces of your life that add up to make something extraordinary. You are not inadequate and your life is not deficient—your garden is bursting with blessings; you just have to take a little time to smell the roses.

daydrifterdigital on Etsy
When we stop comparing and start appreciating, the Internet becomes an incredible resource. We can scroll through Pinterest and not feel envious or inadequate, but inspired and encouraged. We can blog to connect, support, and most importantly, laugh with one another.

This little piece of the Internet is a celebration of the imperfect, crazy, beautiful grass God’s given me. I can’t promise it will always be pin-worthy, but there is no expectation for perfection here—just honesty, humility, gratitude, and a whole lot of silliness.