Coloring in the Lines

When I was young (aka, before I married), I thought my life would look like this: 

No joke. The only thing I would change about this picture is the umbrella. It actually needs a better "home" than tilting to one side in that bucket. But you get the idea. Organized. White. Clean. Very, very straight. Lots of labels and striped rugs and cute yellow boots (that weren't actually ever worn). 

I was not a creative kid, nor did I aspire to be. My hardest subject to study was "jazz," at Miss Judy's because its rules were mere suggestions, you turned your feet in not out and if you wanted to wear you hair in a ponytail rather than a bun. . . YOU COULD. Yikes. I doodled in squares, not circles, set goals everyday (that I achieved) and knew that if you worked hard enough and wanted it badly enough, you could be the All-American and get it. 

Then, I got a Diet Coke one day and the whole thing went to pot. This man told me he liked my shoes, the cafeteria lady gave That Man my office number, and we were engaged in three months. I thought he was like me. His scrubs were color coded, his boys' rooms looked like a cute Mini-Museum display, his kitchen was sparkly and there were no magazines littering his island.

After we were married, I found out that had been false advertising. His nanny had been a housekeeper, too. No. Way. So, now, rather than the cute little cubbies and locker room style entry way, my house feels more like this:

Not exactly, obviously, but the operative word above is "feels." And it's my own doing, of course. That whole "not coloring outside the lines" bit is for real with me. And it's a demand and a requirement and sometimes it's exhausting. Today, when hanging some prints in the babies' room, I was trying to hang five across a wall perfectly level. And at some point, I thought "Oh, that's good enough." Ah! I felt like Grover in "There's a Monster at the End of This Book." "What? What did that say?? On the first page. . .what did that say? Did that say there is a MONSTER at the end of this book?" I actually said out loud, "What? What did I just say? Did I just say 'oh, that's good enough?!'" I felt like I'd failed before I'd even started. Oh, Katie, what has happened to you? You've never said that in your life, and now, in hanging nursery rhyme prints, you're thinking it. Un. Accept. Able. 

A friend of mine once told me that after I had Ellie, I'd be so tired I'd let Bonnie (our dog) lick the spills on the floor. I sadly realized then that this close friend of mine didn't really know me, for I'd NEVER allow that to happen. Lysol, blue rag and immediate clean up is complete. 

She was right. Worries me slightly expecting two. However, we are getting another dog weeks before the babies are born, so that should about do it.

I sound like an idiot, and sometimes I feel that way. If only I could live more relaxed, I do truly think I'd be a better mom and a better wife. So I try. I pray for it. And I know someday I'll allow the umbrella to sit sideways and not feel guilty for ignoring it.