I am a perfectionist. And an idealist. And a wishful thinker. In my perfect world, I would be a content stay-at-home mom who lives in a cozy cocoon of peace.
I would wake up early (but after the sun had already risen) and fix a hot breakfast for my family. We would sit at the table together before we started our day. I would be trim and healthy and effortlessly fashionable and my kids would complete their chores every morning without being asked. Some mornings they would even take the initiative to do some extra tasks because they wanted to help me out. I would drop my kids off every day at a lovely private school with an affordable tuition in a park-like setting where they would thrive both academically and socially. (This is my perfect world after all.) And while they were busy expanding their minds I would go about my day running errands, cleaning our already tidy home, and baking brownies that would be ready to greet the kids when they arrived home after school. With my morning work complete, I would sit down in my bright beautiful office that overlooked a large green yard filled with singing birds and dappled shade to work on my most recent best-selling book. And I would be calm and I would be happy. All of the time.
My husband, who worked at a job he loved earning a salary that comfortably supported our family, would come home every evening to a house filled with the savory aroma of a dinner just ready to be served and our happy, well-groomed, sweet-smelling kids would rush to the door to greet him. He would laugh and pick them up and swing them around in circles as they squealed with delirious joy. Then we would sit down at a table set with beautiful matching dinnerware and we would sip water with sunshine yellow lemon slices in sparkling stemmed glasses. My kids, who would dine with impeccable etiquette, would compliment my ability to cook delicious delicacies and they would eat what I served with gusto. After dinner, we would sit around the now-cleared table (I don't know who cleared the table and did the dishes, I just know it wasn't me...) and play a board game together, giggling and enjoying each other. My husband and I would tuck them in, and guide them in their prayers, kissing their rosy round cheeks. We would spend the next few hours of quality time together talking about our dreams and our feelings before heading off to bed for our own sweet dreams and slumber.
But this is not my real life--not at all. It is only my fantasy. They say that hindsight is 20/20 and in my life, that is a gospel truth. I usually discover the true meaning in my life when I'm looking in the rear view mirror.
