Do other moms want to run away sometimes? I don’t mean the mom’s that you hear about on the evening news. I mean “normal” moms. The kind that sit next to me at church, or that I see at Target or swim practice or PTA meetings.

It’s been building for a while. It seems like I am caught in an endless cycle of laundry, cleaning up after everyone, cooking, dishes, grocery shopping, taking out the trash, sweeping crumbs up off the floor, homework help, swim team shuttle, nose wiping, bum wiping, etc., etc. And yet I look around, and I haven’t scratched the surface on things that need to get done. The Christmas tree box needs to be hauled upstairs. The ladder needs to be hauled to the garage. I’ve got paint peeling on exterior woodwork that, unless I sand it off and repaint soon, the wood will deteriorate from exposure to the elements. Cracks in the mortar need to be caulked. The garage is a disaster. Pictures need to be hung. My shower is a science experiment. I need a haircut!

Is it so incredibly selfish to want a break? To NEED a break? To want to go back to a “real” job where people actually say, “Thank you” and give you big fat paychecks and bonuses and awards? Where you feel like you are learning and growing and making a difference?

And just when I think that I might be the next featured story on the evening news, my sweet husband, who has been run absolutely ragged with work and other commitments, (though he’s so tough he’d never want me to admit that to anyone) sends me this sweet email:

While I’m sitting here thinking about you sleeping upstairs, waiting to come say good morning until I hear you stir, my heart is filled with love for you, almost to overflowing. I’m also filled with gratitude for the sacrifices you make for me and for our family. I know that our two girls will grow into wonderful ladies just like their mom, and that makes me happy. I couldn’t have written a happier story for my life.

Love, Bryan

And so my heart is softened. I step back from the ledge. I start another load of laundry . . . empty the dishwasher . . . read a story to Vivi . . . dust . . . clean the toilet . . .