The other day, through a pretty roundabout way - I heard about someone who was talking about me and my blog. The way that they were speaking wasn't in a very positive way - and it was apparent that they had totally misinterpreted what I had written. I like to think that I am a positive person. I'm fairly flexible when obstacles crop up and always try to look for the good. I live a happy life and always try my best to share that happiness with others.
I think that sometimes people interpret that happiness as being fake or unrealistic and so I try to temper things (like our blog) with "real life" as well as all of the happy things that are going on. But sometimes I forget that it's hard for people to read a blog and interpret correctly the attitude or voice behind the words. I hate the thought that people would read my blog and think that I was a negative person who complains about too many things. Not that I really care what people think of me, but I hate the thought that my children would someday read the things that I've written and not believe 100% that I loved my life and the joy that they brought to me. I want to be known as a good, kind, loving person who loved her life with all that she had - even through the tough times. I want to be known as the kind of person who may not have been perfect, but certainly tried her very hardest to love and serve those around her. I want my children to know that I loved them every minute of every day - even on the days when we were all tired and a little bit grumpy. I want them to know that I loved God and trusted in his timing, even when things weren't happening in the exact way that I wanted them to happen. I want to live my life so that if people were to say negative things about me - no one would believe them. Obviously, I'm not there yet... but I hope that someday I will be.
It's hard to balance the good and the not-so-good when trying to give an accurate picture of our life. I look back at our blog through the time when I was having an extremely emotional and painful miscarriage and I didn't say a word. It was too personal, and so I didn't share. Part of me wishes that I would have said something. Other times on our blog, I have shared some tough things that we are going through. Life can be hard - but I don't want to post all of the frustrating aspects of life for fear that they will overshadow all the good in my life. Frustrating things happen, but that doesn't mean that life isn't good.
Because, our life is so good.
I am grateful every day for the life that I have with my handsome husband and our sweet Lydia Elise.
I'm grateful for our home, our jobs, our family, our religion.
I'm grateful to know that the Lord has a plan, and even when the tempest is raging, I have the hope and faith that our Lord has the strength to help us overcome and calm the waves and comfort us in our sorrow.
I'm grateful for a blog where I can write out my thoughts, share our family memories, and keep in touch with family and friends.
I have many things to be grateful for. And, with that being said - I hope that anyone who reads this blog (whether it be a friend now, or a child later) knows that the person who writes this blog is a happy and loving person, who is trying every day to be a happier and more loving person. I'm not going to try to hide away the un-polished aspects of our lives, but I'm also not going to be afraid to post about the beautiful and happy things that make up this thing called life.
And, in the spirit of sharing what our life really looks like:
This is Lydia's first experience with painting. She loved it. She tried to eat the paint a million times, and preferred to stick her fingers in the paint and play in the water with the paintbrush, but you could tell that she was having a good time. The event didn't last very long, maybe five or ten minutes, but it was fun and we both enjoyed it.
About halfway through we switched our rinse cup from a glass one to a plastic one (she kept trying to knock it off her tray). She wouldn't stop eating the paint, and so I took the paint tray off her high chair and when I turned back around she was drinking the paint water. (After which I frantically found the paper that had come with the paint tray to make sure that it really was non-toxic.)
And that is real life here. Some fun with paint - some drinking of the paint water.
That is just the way our happy life rolls.













