Just keeping it real

There is so much to catch up on, but homework and life have drastically cut into my blogging time.

I have such a love/hate relationship with social media.  I love that I can sufficiently relax and waste time by viewing other people's business, but it's true that people tend to make themselves look virtually perfect (pun intended) online.  Elder Quentin L. Cook recently spoke about an article he read in the New York Times that was written by Arthur C. Brooks:  "He observes that when using social media, we tend to broadcast the smiling details of our lives but not the hard times at school or work. We portray an incomplete life—sometimes in a self-aggrandizing or fake way. We share this life, and then we consume the “almost exclusively … fake lives of [our] social media ‘friends.’” Brooks asserts, “How could it not make you feel worse to spend part of your time pretending to be happier than you are, and the other part of your time seeing how much happier others seem to be than you?”

So here's a post to keepin' it real.

Most women I know would rather die than walk into a grocery store looking like they just rolled out of bed. I couldn't care less.  Unless I a) have something important going on that day or b) haven't washed my hair in a couple days, I'm not spending my precious time getting ready. 

Sometimes I get half-way ready and quit.  I absolutely hate spending an hour working on beautifying myself when I will just have to undo all my progress at the end of the day.  If a genie granted me one wish, it would be to magically look put together every day without the time involved.
Exhibit A:  #MomSelfie

My kitchen sink looks like this more times than not:

Typical family room (with piles of laundry that haven't been put away yet):

And my bills/school papers/random stuff area:

I rarely floss.  The dental assistant has actually given up on lecturing me. 

I have 7 pair of pants that I really like and rotate between.  I realized today that 5 of them are yoga pants and 2 are jeans.  So besides getting dressed up for church, I spend the majority of my life in yoga pants.  And I don't practice yoga.

My hands always look like they've had a fight with a cheese grater because I bite my nails and skin.  It's an anxiety thing and my mind just doesn't want to quit.  I figure at least my addiction isn't something like cigarette smoking that could kill me.

Ryan attends a lot of important meetings and parties.  Sometimes he asks me to join him.  I don't fit in very well.  I don't really enjoy artificial small talk, awkward giggles, fancy clothing, and overpriced food.  Ryan is fantastic in the limelight.  He is a confident, persuasive motivational speaker who could sell ice to an eskimo.

I become more of a homebody every year.  I can blame this partially on the fact that I am taking online college classes that require a lot of school work, but I also feel completely comfortable doing my own thing rather than being invited to every get-together.  This is both good and bad because  I don't think I reach out to other people as much as I should anymore.  I used to be the first to invite neighbors or friends over to dinner.

I don't watch a lot of TV.  Unless someone recommends a good series on Netflix, in which case I get obsessed and watch the entire series as quickly as possible.  This happened last month (obviously before my college classes started again) when I watched all 5 seasons of Friday Night Lights in a period of 3 weeks.

I eat way too much sugar.  I have various stashes of chocolate in the house that make their appearance when I am studying or as soon as the kids get to bed.

I typically avoid talking on the phone unless it's someone in my immediate family.  Texting is my communication of choice.  Phone calls make me nervous.

I've been on anxiety medication for about 10 years now.  Ali + Zoloft = happy, patient, relaxed.  Ali - Zoloft = depressed, impatient, crying, overwhelmed.  God was kind to enough to send me to Earth at the same time as the geniuses who figured out how to balance serotonin levels.

I have a housecleaner who thoroughly cleans the bathrooms every couple weeks.  Why do I live in a large house if it's too much for me to deal with on my own?  Good question.

I only make my bed about half the time and I rarely require my kids to make their own beds.  Their college roommates will curse me someday.

I am terrible at gathering the kids together for regular scripture study and Family Home Evening.  When they complain that we are failing at being the ideal family, I tell them, "You're right.  Which is why I expect you to be better parents than us someday.  Realize all the things we did wrong and correct them."