It’s strange, feeling like on one hand I should be careful what I share publicly about our family life and the sense that I’m not being entirely honest. Although our dirty washing basket sometimes overflows I won’t be airing our dirty laundry here.
Here I will redress the balance slightly in the interests of honesty. Our children are sometimes naughty. They usually argue. They are sometimes sullen and rude. Except Birch, he’s lovely although perhaps not at night. I don’t know about that. Ben, having gone back to work, still gets up in the night to feed him. I don’t know how he became this selfless man, or how I got to be the one married to him.
I am not the human I would like to be, much less the wife I should be, or the mother I once thought I could be. I have plenty more work to do on developing patience. Sometimes it goes wrong. Then it’s an opportunity to say sorry. I’m glad there is that word, sorry.
I suspect this is just our version of normal life.
My blog doesn’t read quite that way. Even though I’m forecasting difficult moments still it reads like the idyll we long to create. So here is my confession. Just like yours, our life isn’t perfect. But we are trying really hard and sticking together anyway. It is worth it.