I finished my birth to 18 photo album this past weekend, which contains 50 of my favorite photos. What I realized tonight was this: I picked exactly one of the photos because I liked what I was wearing (a fav outfit that I wore 2x a week for 2+ years). That's it. All the others were of me covered in paint, playing outside, looking sassy while standing in a bucket of water, laughing in the lake, or surrounded by family and friends.

A truly full and happy life isn't at ALL about/reflected by the clothes we/our kids/our parents/our friends wear in pictures or blogs. Our lives about the beloveds in them, the little moments, the messy joy, what the pictures make us feel, how our joy soaks up a page.