Cheers to the Imperfect. Here Here to the Madness.

Of course I’m the last to post on our little blog project because, as you may have guessed, I’m a hot mess mama in the purest form. Hello, loves. I’m Kensley, a tall, klutzy, infertile mama to my precocious 2-year-old daughter, our miracle IVF baby – praise Jesus, Allah, Buddha, and/or natural selection for modern medicine! I also love (sometimes) my wise-cracking engineer of a husband whose recent obsession with major facial hair growth has left me referring to him simply as “The Beard.” Lastly, I am wildlife biologist working ¾-time, but would much rather peruse Pinterest and dare I say it, the “mommy” culture (shudder) to find out what others are doing. Because we all need support, right?

That’s where I get conflicted. On one hand, I see so much Pinterestic perfection and Instagramic ease that I automatically assume everyone has this magic “with-it” wand that lightly dusts their children in good behavior and their homes in good taste. So where the eff is my magic wand?

Well, there is no wand, honey. There can’t be. Only the help of a nanny. Or a strategic trick of an expensive camera. Or some really lucky lighting. Or about 322 tries for one shot. Because on that other hand, I’d like to believe every one of those women has bad days too, that they are an imperfect hot mess deep down inside just like me. They’re just better at hiding it than the rest of us. Now that (and a glass of wine) makes me all warm inside.

Reality is far from our insecure, peacocked little social facades. Exposing this tender underbelly of truth is so rare now that I find it refreshing and comforting. And that was this blog is about. It’s about honesty. It’s about comfort. It’s about complete and utter support for the true hot mess inside us all and the sticky mess that surrounds your coffee table at this very moment. It’s about embracing the love for our kids, the love and respect we have as mothers, for ALL different types of mothers, for ending the mom-guilt, and embracing a bit more of the shit show you only wished someone could accept you for. And we do. Because we are exactly that. And proud of it.

So here’s to support, love, and real stories to crack you up and make you feel less like a dip-shit and more just like the beautiful, piping hot mess mama that you truly are. Plus crying. Hysterical crying too. Ooooh and wine!

Cheers!

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The Peacocked Facade: Kensley, The Beard, and Little Acorn.
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REALITY: Drool is everywhere.
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Just TRY to look at the camera. IT’S RIGHT THERE!
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Don’t make me thigh-squeeze that smile out of you!
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Merry Christmas from the Greuters and the unfortunate poodle we waited over an hour to get scared of. Reality? NAILED IT.

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