One of my favorite parts of blogging is being honest. Around the new year, when the pressure to be the “perfect person/wife/family” ramps up, I try to resist that and embrace authenticity. Perfect is usually impossible, and authentic is way better. If our house is messy, I’ll make a video to show it. If we don’t know how to tackle a project, we’ll admit it (like this). If we fail at something, we blog about it (examples: this and this).
We love keeping a DIY diary that shows the good, the bad, and the ugly — because a blog that only shows the wins feels incomplete. We’re regular people doing everyday DIY on a real-person budget, learning as we go. We don’t have formal training. Five years ago we painted trim in the wrong finish, didn’t own a power drill, and our house looked very different (see the before photos).
We began this blog as DIY beginners, figuring out how to hang curtains and hunt for appliance deals. After more than four years of hands-on projects, I wanted to share a few honest truths to start the year — things that might surprise you, or might not if you know me well.
#1. I don’t have the perfect marriage. People often ask if John and I ever fight. Of course we do. We’ve been together for nearly five years and argue like many couples do — but not loudly in front of Clara. We’re two individuals with strong opinions, which leads to heated discussions sometimes, whether about parenting choices or a home renovation snafu. Still, we share the same goals: a healthy, well-adjusted daughter, a safe and beautiful home, and each other’s happiness. We’re a team — occasionally dysfunctional, sometimes crabby, but a team nonetheless.
#2. I don’t have the perfect child. Clara has so many wonderful qualities — she’s a great night sleeper, loves to sing and dance, and enjoys quirky foods like hummus and pickles. But she’s still a toddler: she cries, teethes, has tantrums, throws food, and rips up magazines. We navigate the same sick days and meltdowns every parent knows. My labor was terrifying (read about it), and breastfeeding for 14 months was rewarding but demanding (more on that). She’s not perfect, but she’s perfect for us.
#3. I make design and life mistakes — all the time. Our rooms and lives are constantly changing. Our first house took 4.5 years to finish, and we’ve been in this one just over a year, so we’re still experimenting. We make wrong calls, then course-correct. The key is not getting stuck on a mistake. For example, we once bought the wrong-sized rug for our living room (details here). Eventually we repurposed it, sold it, or saved to upgrade. Learning, adapting, and evolving keeps a room — and life — moving forward. Stagnation happens when you freeze from fear of making or admitting mistakes.
#4. I’m awkward and far less polished than I might seem. I often have paint in my hair and under my nails, shirts stretched from breastfeeding, and dog fur or a smear of jelly on me more often than I’d like to admit. I’m socially awkward — I once spun in a store and screamed about holiday decor to a stranger, only to realize she knew me from the blog. Embarrassing, yes. Real, yes. I don’t mind being goofy; that’s part of who I am.
#5. I get nervous and insecure about the future. Running a small business and being a professional blogger isn’t the same as a job with steady benefits or a 401(k) — we’ve talked about that before (post one, post two). We saved a cushion before John left his day job after Clara was born, but uncertainty still shows up. We worry about what comes next sometimes, and that’s normal.
#6. I roll my eyes at myself. I know I’m enthusiastic to the point of being cringe-worthy. My puns and cheerfulness can be much. I’m not cool and composed; I’m hyper, giddy, and weird. That authenticity is intentional — blogging works best when you’re yourself. Call me adorkable if you want; I’ll probably own it.
#7. My house is usually a disaster. At any given moment a frame wall might be mid-build…
…while the sunroom might be in full makeover mode (see the sunroom project). There’s almost always a big pile of unsorted stuff somewhere, and the playroom is perpetually out of control.
So that’s my point: I don’t have it all figured out. I’m a New Jersey girl who started a blog, forgets to take contacts out sometimes, and often has food smudged on my face in public. I’m grateful for where we are, and I’d rather be a work in progress than pretend to be perfect. Our house is, too.