Yesterday I was not so loving toward my husband. He came home, happily telling me all about a conference he might go to in St. Louis...for 4 days...with attractive, accomplished female colleagues for company.
Stained-shirt-SAHM insecurity reared its ugly head. "Oh, great! I will really enjoy doubling my workload while you eat out in restaurants with other women! You do realize that I haven't had a day alone in over a year!" (I won't go on. I'm not proud of it, but you moms know what I said.)
I am happily married. I love being a mom. And apart from blogging, I rarely indulge in "me time"--or in complaining about the lack thereof. Even I was surprised at the sudden outburst.
Well, God showed me. A couple of hours later, I sat in the football stands, holding my one-year-old on my lap. A teenage mother sat next to me, holding her own one-year-old. I was flooded with shame.
I live a life of luxury and security compared to that young woman. Every day at home with my children is free time. Me time. Lord, help me not take that for granted ever again.