Why did I ever loathe going to bed? From a crying a baby to a teen who stayed up way too late – why, oh why did I not embrace a good night’s sleep from the start?
Why did I think so negatively about my teenage/pre-baby body? Who in the heck made me believe a size 8 was too big? Or my personal favorite: I had a big butt in those size 8 jeans. Really?? That size 8 body had no idea what was coming!
Why did I believe that I’d become a tidy neat-freak once I was a stay-at-home mom and “had time to be home”? I could almost laugh if I wasn’t crying.
Why did I save all that crap? Throwing away the last four inches of ribbon would not have been wasteful. My “save it just in case I need it” pile requires its own storage room! Ripping out all the magazine articles to read while the kids napped? Hahaha. I’m finding five-year-old articles about the upcoming “smart phones that may prove to be revolutionary.”
Why did I think the toddler years were so tiring and exhausting as I was dreaming of the day the kids were older and more independent? Um—no change. It’s different, yes. But it’s still tiring and exhausting.
Why didn’t I just donate those clothes instead of moving the boxes around every few years? I’m not going to wear the Winnie-the-Pooh shirt that I once thought was cute.
Why did I not label all my photos as I had them developed and printed? (Where was that Easter egg hunt? And who the heck is that lady at my wedding shower?)
Why did I worry so much about pleasing everybody and their neighbor? Why was I so afraid to say “no” when it would have been the best thing for my family? Playing a faux super woman takes its toll on the woman, her husband and their children.
Why did I never ask these questions earlier in my life?