Motherhood gets in my way.
It's the biggest obstacle I've ever faced as a productive, independent woman. In the past, I've never let a single person or an idea prevent me from passing, from going through, going forward.
Ask me what I want now and I may not know. I want everything. And nothing. I want to do it all and nothing at all.
I want time for me. Time for the family. Time to get things done around the house.
I want to go places. Stay home. Stay in bed. Watch my girls run and play, freely.
I want to plan menus for the week, and get the groceries, all without missing a beat of "me time" or "family time."
I want to be at home, alone, and feel the comfort of my house without the screaming and the crying and the tugging on my legs. But I don't want to miss out on what happens when they go, wherever they go.
I want to exercise. I want to read. I want to run. I want to drink a glass of wine. I want to write.
I want to start scraping wallpaper off where a toddler tore it off. I want to tape that long piece back on and call it a day because, really, where would that fit in my day?
I want to eat as a family. I want to eat as a woman, as a wife, with two hands, with easy conversation, with music playing. I want to share traditional family meals.
I want to nap. I want to get work done. I want to shop. I want to sit and read magazines.
I want to upload photos and create new digital pages reflecting my daughters' growth. I want to sit and create different pages with my hands, with scissors, with love -- not with a mouse and a keyboard.
I want to be more organized and yet I can't keep up with the toys, the shredded paper, the wet clothes soaked in milk.
Maybe someday I'll get out of my own way.
I never knew I'd become my biggest obstacle, yet.
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