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The one about a story

December 5, 2016

Ahem.

::tap, tap::

Is this thing on?

 

Good! Hi. I'm Erin and I'd like to tell you a story... a story about the word "story." 

 

 

Every year I feel like a word "speaks" to me, if you know what I mean. Not like actually talks cause that would be weird but speaks to me in that it keeps appearing in front of me as if someone wants me to be aware of it.  For the last year the word has been "story." 

 

At first I was like "oh awesome! A story! Who doesn't like a story?" Cinderella. Sleeping Beauty. Pretty Woman.  All fabulous stories in my humble opinion. 

 

But what about the not-so-perfect stories out there. The ones that they probably won't make a blockbuster hit where the stunning Anne Hathaway will play your role and you'll be whisked away by the Handsome Prince and ride off into the fairy tale sunset sans sunscreen. What about those stories? Who's going to tell those?

 

That's where I come in. I have one of those perfectly imperfect stories. I have a messy history, a choatic present and with 5 kids aged 7 and under: things probably aren't going to simmer down anytime soon. But here's the kicker. 

 

I. LOVE. MY. STORY*.

(*most days)

 

I wouldn't trade my snot nosed, constantly spilling, stop-teasing-your-brother babies for anything. Just like I wouldn't trade our constantly-under-construction-because-I-have-decorating-ADD fixer upper for any of Joanna Gaines's Fixer Upper (I will however except her help in designing and of course Chip's crew of handy handmen would definitely help speed the process along. Joanna, if you're reading this-have your people call my people. Oh and preferably during nap time so I can actually hear what they are saying without a 4 year old climbing on my back or my two year olds totally-off key version of Bingo was his name-o blaring through my aching head. Mmmkay?)

 

I have a story. And while it's not perfect and probably not for a lot of people, my story is for me and it's mine. You, my poor reader (yes, reader cause I'm pretty sure no one is reading after my babble above except my friend Michelle) have simply been roped in for the ride on my little crazy story train. #sorrynotsorry. 

 

I say we all embrace our own personal story. Honor our imperfections.  Celebrate our silliness. And by golly, document "our dog ate a poopy diaper" lives. Not that that would ever happen here at my house. I'm talking about a friend... 

 

Anywho, just a long winded post to say "welcome to my blog!" I'm glad you're here to be part of my crazy, messy, beautiful story. 

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