Too often we feel obligated to do all of these extras so we don't feel like failures. Try as I might to be laid back, this striving for perfection in parts of my life that aren't the most significant feels almost ingrained in me. So many things are trying to matter in life that they tend to cloud the precious few that actually do. But I'm finally starting to internalize the truth that there is nobody holding me to that pressure but myself.
There is beautiful freedom in lowering your standards and being at peace with mediocre. When you let some pieces be good enough, other aspects will soar.
I want my own definition of beauty and success: For my kids to know I play with them, hard. For them to know that there are no words for how fiercely I love them. I want to laugh with my husband. I want to say yes. I want to read my book in the quiet evenings. I want to dance. I want to be healthy and balanced. I want eye contact. I want to always have my babies in my arms or on my hip.
So, I'll be over here with a jiggly bum and makeup-less eyebrows, letting the pieces of myself that have no baring on true joy be refreshingly average while I live my miraculously extraordinary life with all the love and color it deserves.