If you had asked me when I was younger what my life would look like in my 30s, as a mother, as a wife, I would never have been able to guess it would be this.
That my house would be a complete disaster every single day, unless company was coming over, and then it was a minor disaster to be put on hold for a small number of hours.
That I would go to bed thinking about all the laundry I need to fold, wash, put away…yet never ever get to.
That I would be a stay-at-home mom, walking babies to school, cooking all the meals, in charge of all the cleaning, and watching my hard-earned degree gather dust on our wall.
That I would be forced to negotiate with the most unreasonable creatures on the planet just to put on their shoes so we could go to the park FOR THEM, or eat their food because they were the ones sobbing at my feet hungry, or to go to bed and sleep because all of the hysterics that they are currently stuck in are because they are tired.
That I would not get a hair cut in over a year simply because I would need to orchestrate a child-care/salon hours/extra time formula that only works once every 15 months or so.
That I would donate all of my dress pants, skirts, blouses because I don’t need them anymore – my uniform consists of durable material, wash-and-wear ensembles with denim being the star.
That we would not go to church in months simply because we are too sick/too exhausted/too worn-out to get to one more place on time.
That sitting on the couch and zoning out for an hour, followed by an early bedtime is my idea of the perfect night.
That eating hot food is an anomaly so rare that I regularly burn my mouth whenever the opportunity does present itself.
That I would drink and seek out and need coffee to fuel my day, every day.
That the feeling of not having a body on me or near me or touching me would be more alien than having three children piled on and around me.
That sleep would be the most precious and most scarce commodity in my life, so much so that on days where the babies are overnight somewhere, sleep is all I can think about.
That when planning our 10-year anniversary trip, that it’s a legitimate toss-up between Europe and an all-inclusive tropical resort because all I want to do is SLEEP.
That I would be fulfilled by the feeling of a smooth, not sticky counter, kitchen table, coffee table, floor.
That I would find pleasure in finding miracle cleaning products that worked instead of just made me work.
That I would write more, clean more, cook more, and walk more with babies hanging off of me, screaming at me, crying on me or asking a million things of me, than not.
That I would love my babies more fiercely than anything ever. That I would do all of the above and more for them because it’s ingrained in my DNA that they are mine and I must fight for them.
That I would get up and repeat over and over and over again, regardless of the fact I make no money, have no sick days, and no vacation time.
If you had asked me then, I wouldn’t believe you. And yet, it’s the most natural thing today.