And I'm over here all excited and proud of myself for remembering to brush my teeth and not nag my husband for 24 hours.
My life is far from perfect, and I hope I never come across that way - Especially when most nights we're dealing with something like this:
Yesterday at 11:21am (I know because I looked at the clock to try to trap the moment inside of my heart), perfect was happening in my kitchen. There were pots and spatulas on the floor where Cameron had been playing, dirty dishrags on a counter stained with sticky remnants of breakfast, and we were all three STILL in our pajamas. T had pulled up some music on the computer, and we stopped everything to have a 3-person dance party right in the middle of our messy kitchen. Cameron's giggles erupted from the depths of her belly, and T and I were both smiling ear-to-ear, dancing and bouncing and clapping and running around...
And it was my definition of perfect.