When I was younger, I had a picture in my mind of the mother and wife that I thought I might become. I imagined what it would be like to raise a family and to fill a home of my own. I saw the beautiful yard that I would enjoy planting and maintaining, with colors that invited the spring time and landscaping that highlighted the winter snow. My children surrounded me with giggles, smiles, bare feet, and eagerness to learn and play. I invited them in with my best smile and I welcomed their questions with patience and kindness. I saw myself creating with them and teaching them. I saw my husband coming home in the evenings with a hearty meal prepared for him. I would welcome him with a clean home and a smile on my face. He would then play with the kids (happily; not causing them to scream or cry or teasing them into tears. They would simply laugh and play) while I finished cleaning up. There were tantrums and tears in this picture of mine, but not nearly as many as I have encountered. There were frustrations and imperfections in my imagination, but after planning, faith, prayer, and dedication, they would work themselves out and we would be stronger and happier in the end. Everything somehow led to a happy ending.

I don't mean to sound like a pessimist, and I know one day these feelings will subside, but I think it may benefit my posterity to know that some days, just aren't fun. And just maybe, I might feel slightly better after having discussed some things with myself....

I now look at my life and feel like, not only do most things never turn out as expected, but "there are dreams that cannot be! And there are storms we cannot weather." There are moments where my world is filled with giggles and happy little toes, but it feels overrun by whining and crying. I felt hope of attaining a home for our family one day. I had hope that one day, our family would enjoy those beautiful flowers in our own yard and my children would only answer to my voice during the day at home. I had a hope that eventually my husband would come home in the evenings and I could welcome him with a meal and a kiss. I had a hope that I might be able to live my dream and become a doctor (possibly one, who could work part time, or specialize enough to choose my hours for the most part). I thought that if I worked hard enough, I could make it all happen. I try not to feel so discouraged, but I feel that hope of mine is slipping through my fingers. I feel no use in trying to plan anything any more. All that I felt good about and spent hours contemplating and praying about is now obsolete. And where do I go now? I go to bed in the same room I did in high school. Gazing at the same stars that were placed on my ceiling for a request to attend the prom. I wake up at least three times a night to a nine month old baby who refuses to sleep by himself for longer than two hours. When the sun rises, a very determined and stubborn three (almost four) year old demands chocolate milk, cries because it's too cold. I warm it. Then she cries because it's too hot. Refuses to get dressed. Finally does and then cries for about 10-15 minutes because her shoes are too tight or her pants are too long or her shirt sleeves are too long. She then begs me to do her hair and then cries for at least 20 minutes because she doesn't like it. All the while, the nine month little boy happily crawling around finding whatever he can to entertain himself (usually involving endangering himself also...) I make a snack with the food my parents have purchased and have a thought to make a silly face out of it, thinking that Lydia will actually like it. She doesn't. In fact, she cries for probably about 10-15 more minutes because it didn't have hair, or it's eyes weren't the right size or color, or whatever else she might find to complain about. I do my best to distract her while my mother steps in with some amazing solution....and so it continues for about 8 more hours, or until my husband gets home and sometimes plays with them, but usually tackles them until they scream, get hurt, or just get so frustrated they cry and the fun is over. Probably because I didn't greet him with a meal I prepared happily....instead, my mom probably made it....The house probably isn't clean and now I'm spent, ready for bed, no more negotiating with a three year old, no more wrestling with a tired baby who won't lay down to sleep. I'm ready for bed. What kind of wife is like that at the end of the day?......What kind of mother doesn't look forward to waking up the next day to greet it all again?....