Mama Bunkfish

Navigating marriage, motherhood, and mental illness on Jesus, caffeine, and naps!


Hey y’all! It’s been a while. I’ve been just a wee bit busy and haven’t had the brain bandwidth to sit down and write a coherent post that’s more than about fifty words. Things are slowing down around here and I think I’ve got my groove back. It’s funny how things hit you and this idea of ‘living my best life’ hit me the other day from something quite unexpected – a Snap about houseshoes.

A friend of mind Snapped that she had accidentally worn slippers to take her daughter to swim lessons. I responded that I often wore them on purpose, followed by, ‘I’m living my best life’. She thought it was funny as did I, simply because it’s true – I do often, on purpose, wear slippers to take my daughter to swim practice. Today, as I was sitting here raging from a grande cold brew (I needed it today…sleep deprivation…again), I decided to search #LivingMyBestLife on Instagram. As I scrolled through the numerous posts, I noticed that a majority of them seemed to be of half-naked people posing in the ocean. Some were of animals but most were of people, who by most beauty standards, would be considered ‘beautiful’ (don’t get me started on that). I did not see one picture of a mom, like me, fat, bags under her eyes, tanned from a day at the pool, sitting on her couch with a blanket and a plastic cup of 7UP. And folks, I was a bit offended. I’m living my best life. Yea, I haven’t been to the ocean this summer. I make my kids make their own PB&J for lunch and let them stay up late. And I need a haircut. But why can’t living life – just being alive, be your best life? Why does it have to be glamorous? Why can’t it just be chilling at the house, in your PJs, because it’s 108 degrees in the shade?

What concerns me more is that many people look at these posts and constantly struggle to reach that #goal. They feel like they’re missing out and that their life is ‘boring’ and ‘useless’ because they aren’t in a white bikini on the sandy beaches of Cozumel. Or at some really expensive music festival. Or whatever. Friend, it’s okay. It’s okay if your best life is being at home, cuddled up in bed with your kiddos. Or mopping the kitchen floors because you pride yourself on a clean house. Or binge-watching Netflix. Because at the end of the day, it’s YOUR life. YOU decide what best looks like.

Well my friends, that’s it for now. I’m off to pick a kid up from camp – barefoot – because I hate shoes.

Until next time…

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