Wife Blog

It seriously took one google search of "wife blog" to find this. One.

"When Michael comes home from work I like to have dinner ready for him. Something he likes. I'll take a few extra minutes to pull my hair up into a bouncy ponytail, and put on one of my prettiest aprons. If I'm so inclined, I might put on a bit of makeup--nothing much, maybe a touch of mascara, a little blush, and some lip gloss."

And this one.

"Earlier this evening my husband and I hosted our Bible study group. By the time our company arrived at 7pm the house was clean, the tea was hot, and the brownies were cut into squares."

If this was you today, consider this my standing ovation to you. I am standing on my couch at this very moment leading my imaginary audience in a unanimous slow clap.

Why?

Because this would be my blog entry for the day.

"When Justin comes home from work, I like to say, 'Um, the crock pot thing I was making is completely black. And one of your beloved $6 blocks of Velveeta is in it.' I'll take a few extra minutes to have a complete mental breakdown because the dog ate my $75 Vibram athletic shoes. I will go to my room and throw things around like an irrational lunatic and come out with my mascara running, my hair in a sad, low ponytail and I will insist that we go to Pizza Inn."

I wish I could say this was the worst of it. But it's not. Before he got home, I dramatically fell to the floor, picking up the remains of my shoes (like the 3rd pair this week). I forgot to put them up in my attempt to make an "easy" crock pot dish before leaving for work. But back to the floor. I cried. Like a lot. I sat in a puddle of exploded lotion (Fiona had a chew 2 things, get one for free deal going on) and finally let my exhaustion catch up with me.

My gaze went back and forth between the shoe remains and the crock pot remains. I'm not sure which looked more pathetic. They both looked like the cast of "Bones" could have dissected them for homicide clues.

But it was in that rather embarrassing moment that I realized that I just can't get my brownie squares in a row sometimes.

Luckily I serve a God who continues to fight Satan's lies about womanhood that have found a place to reside in my heart. Luckily I love a husband who could care less if my ponytail is bouncy or not.

Am I proud to admit that I had a breakdown in the middle of a Jergen's pond? That would be a no.

Am I proud to admit that sometimes I question what I can even bring to the marriage table at the end of the day? Yeah, I'm going to go with a negative on that, too.

But I will admit that I find comfort in the knowledge that I am not alone. And you're not either. Somewhere, someone else is walking around in your mauled shoes.

Almost no one is foolish enough to imagine that he automatically deserves great success in any field of activity; yet almost everyone believes that he automatically deserves success in marriage.