Great Expectations

When I was pregnant, I had such high hopes for my upcoming stay-at-home mom days.  I always thought that because I've never felt any pull towards a vocation that maybe God was simply calling me to be a wife and mommy.  I imagined that I would be the perfect little homemaker, that I would quickly settle into a pleasant routine with time to be not only a good mother, but also a good wife.  I knew I'd have over two months to myself to get my life with a baby under control and that by the time Josh got back from Kuwait, I'd be a 20th century June Cleaver, pearls and all.  It all seemed so perfect in my head, and I was so, SO excited that finally my time to shine was coming. 

Oh, if only.

When it comes to my family, first and foremost, I want to be a wife that Josh can be proud of.  I want to earn the privelege to stay at home by making sure that every day the bed is made, that there are clean socks to wear, and that Josh comes home to a showered and affectionate woman, happy children, and a hot meal on the table.  I want to be a blessing in this house, and I want this to be a place he is always excited to return to.

As it is, I can hardly get a chance to open the mail every day, let alone regularly clean the house or manage to eat dinner before 8 pm.  My dog howls because he's not getting enough attention, and my baby's cries so much in the early evenings for no apparent reason that last night, I wanted to lay face down in the snow in utter defeat.   I feel like a complete failure when I think about how grand my original plans were.  I honestly thought that this was my "calling" and it'd all come to me naturally and that it wouldn't seem so impossible.  But it does seem impossible, and I'm feeling really disappointed in myself.

I've got one more month to pull it together... and no earthly idea how I'm going to get there.