Today, I followed a link from Twitter, which took me to Brené Brown’s blog, Ordinary Courage and this video….

She’s right. It was too good not to share! It had me tearing up…

Not that it’s that difficult. Ever since becoming a mom, I always feel like I’m on the razor edge of tears. Hormones, perhaps? I think it has to do with dealing with intense feelings day to day- both mine and the kids’…

If you could go back to right before you had your first child, what would you tell yourself?

Man! Oh Man! What I wouldn’t tell myself?!

First would have to be: Giving so much to another being doesn’t mean having to give up on yourself. You have enough love to go ’round. Promise!

Today is the first day of Scout’s second year of preschool, which he is emphatic to point out is called “PRE-K!” not preschool.

This isn’t like the first day of school last year when he walked out of our house a round-faced baby and unsure of what to expect. This year, he’s merely returning to rule the school once again.

So with Star Wars lunch box (the one he specifically requested) and a brand new backpack in tow, he barely glanced back to give us a parting nod as he confidently strode towards his classroom.

It seems so very sad, but my feelings weren’t hurt. After all, that’s what growing up is all about.

School starts Friday.

Why Friday? Who cares! I’m more concerned about having to limit the number of cartwheels and “whew-hews” I do at drop off. I mean, I’m excited and all, but I’m not completely insensitive. The other parents would probably like to have a turn too.

School starts Friday. Is there a more sweeter sound?

When I first read the description of Maddie Dawson’s The Stuff That Never Happened, I thought I was in for a fluffy, bedtime read.

Annabelle McKay knows she shouldn’t have any complaints. She’s been in a stable marriage that’s lasted almost three decades and has provided her with two wonderful children, thousands of family dinners around a sturdy oak table, and a husband so devoted that he schedules lovemaking into his calendar every Wednesday morning. Other wives envy the fact that Grant is not the type of man who would ever cheat on her or leave her for a younger woman.

The trouble is Annabelle isn’t sure she wants to be married to Grant anymore. The trouble is she’s still in love with someone else.

Dum-dum -DUM! One woman. Two great loves. So deliciously scandalous. What’s not to like, right?

So I started reading about Annabelle and Grant’s cozy little life. Their companionable suppers and quiet ease with one another, Grant’s passion for his work, Annabelle’s weepy episodes in public places…

A few chapters in, I couldn’t take it anymore and had to put the book away. It was hitting too close to home.

No, silly, I am not yearning for a long lost love. It’s the other thing… the being married to the  sweet, wonderful guy. I have a nice, NORMAL, devoted husband who loves our family and his work. Yes, I am a very lucky girl!

I have no complaints about our marriage except that I often wonder where it’s gone…

Six years ago, I was a newlywed. We had no sooner bought a cabinet for our wedding china and a house to put it in than my husband and I thought, “Hey wouldn’t it be GREAT to start a family!”

Two kids, four houses, and six jobs later, I wonder what was so wrong with just “being in love” for a little bit longer… HA!

Ah, but so goes the great romance of my life. Still, I have no regrets. Truly.

I once read an article about how marriage brings about children, but children bring about the end of marriage. I don’t entirely agree with that statement, but I completely understand. OH. MY. HELLS. Do I understand!

In an earlier post, I detailed the amount of stress we’ve been going through lately with balancing home and work. More specifically, balancing our life at home and my husband’s life at work, which, by the way, supports this whole gig.

Until one of us comes into hoards and hoards of money (not likely), we’re always going to have to work.  Furthermore, we’re always going to take care of our home and kids. Right now, the division is somewhat rigid. My husband goes to the office. I stay home with the kids. Both jobs are demanding, but not mutually exclusive. My husband still needs to part of the family. I still need to be part of the world.

At the moment, our children are very young. At ages four and one, each of them require a LOT of attention. I’m told that this too shall pass.  “It’ll get better once they get older.” Except that I was a kid once and I know for a fact that it only gets more complicated… and more angsty and misunderstood.

Fortunately, my husband has a job doing what he loves and at a great company too, but it’s still very long hours. In what little time that remains, there’s fitting in all of the chores and other responsibilities of running a home. There’s devoting time with the kids- with each of them as individuals, as a family, and as an extended family. Then there’s spending time alone, pursuing our passions and hobbies, or just vegging out.

Unfortunately, on the very bottom of that list has been spending time as a couple– date nights, uninterrupted conversations…. Sitters aren’t cheap, which brings us to the very thing that divides us. His work to support our life.

It’s hard not to feel like we’re growing apart, because by necessity, we are. I just wonder how I’ll look back at all this two or three decades from now. Or worse, what two or three decades of living this way will do to “us”.

Don’t get me wrong. I adore my husband. I love our children and I’m grateful for our charmed life. However, these days I’ve been asking myself, is this marriage or is this just my marriage?

Disclosure: I received a complimentary copy of The Stuff That Never Happened by Maddie Dawson as member of the From Left to Write Book Club, which was created as a continuation of the Silicon Valley Moms Blog Book Club. The thoughts and opinions expressed above are my own.

You can visit Maddie Dawson’s website or follow her on Twitter.

To read other posts inspired by this book, visit the From Left to Write Book Club Blog.

It was only a matter of time before LIFE caught up with me.

Yesterday started off like any other day. I woke up refreshed, bright-eyed, and ready to face the day cursing the sun after another long night of “trying to get everything accomplished” (and failing miserably).

Mike had already left for work, so there wasn’t time for a proper breakfast between getting the kids fed, cleaned, and dressed.  I managed to cram a handful of cereal and a few strawberries in my mouth before Lou started screaming to be left down from her highchair. I made myself a cup of tea, but I don’t recall even taking a sip.

A quicky shower and hair in a bun, I was out the door to run errands before it was time to feed the kids again.

Our first stop for the day was the library, which is where I started to feel the first waves of exhaustion but that’s not unusual these days…

Mike’s been back in “crunch mode” since… I didn’t even remember when. That’s six days a week of being gone before the kids get up and home after they’re supposed to be in bed. On the seventh day, he’s exhausted from working nonstop and I’m out of my mind frazzled from not having any help all week.

Day after day of cooking, cleaning, quibbling, screaming, crying, clinging, changing… rinse and repeat with no more than a 10 minute nap/break in between… but only if we’re in the car… and the radio is off… and the sun and moon are in the right coordinates.

Bedtime is a joke since that’s the ONLY time my children see their dad, so of course, they want to be AWAKE and LOUD and SCREAMY… but who can blame them? They miss seeing him too.

No where in that combination is “time for Mommy to sit down to a meal or sleep or be ALONE…” So, in other words, “irritable” barely scratches the surface of how I’ve been feeling. Unfortunately, it’s probably the nicest impression my children will have of me for years to come.

Yet, life goes on. There are extended trips to see family, weddings to attend, first birthday parties to plan, another school year ahead…

Yesterday (like every other day), I planned to just muscle through and get stuff done as best I could.

I took Scout to claim his Summer Reading Club prize from the librarian. Feeling lightheaded, I had to sit down with Lou while he picked out more books for the week.  I faintly recall standing in the checkout line, because just as it was our turn the scariest, most helpless moment of my adult life happened.

My vision narrowed and I completely blacked out. Gripping tighter to Lou with one hand, I held on to the counter with the other until I regained my composure.  Then the panic set in. I didn’t know whether I needed to poop or throw up.  I didn’t know if I was hot or cold. I didn’t know how to ask for help.

Surrounded by strangers, do I just hand my kids over to another random mom while I run to the bathroom? Do I  just start screaming, “Help, Help, Help” or “Call an ambulance”… but then what?

My head was still spinning as I walked out the double doors. My son, for whom every moment is the Spanish Inquisition, trailed behind asking, “Why are we leaving the library, Mommy? Where are we going next? Why do the doors open like that? What does AU-TO-MA-TI-CALLY mean? WHY? WHY? WHY?”

“Please stop talking,” I pleaded, “I think need to throw up. Can you just help me get to the car?”

And with that he took my hand, looked both ways, and led me across the street. Let me repeat. My FOUR YEAR OLD had to help me across the street.

Once in the car, I called Mike and told him to come home right away. I managed to drive home, which I would NOT have attempted had we not been so close via surface streets and midday traffic been so sparse. Scout entertained Lou until Mike arrived and I laid down for the rest of the day.

The next afternoon, I took the kids with me to see my doctor. A father to a four- and a two-year old, he listened all too sympathetically as I detailed everything that I’ve been doing and feeling the last year and a half of my life.

In fact, he was appalled at how much Mike has been working, in light of our total lack of support from family or friends… and the man’s been through med school and residency. GAH!

We talk about how toxic life in Silicon Valley can be, uber-competitive, expensive, and isolating. Yet it’s the person at home, alone, trying to keep the family together that pays the price. My head nearly fell off from nodding in agreement.

He ordered some tests to rule out some of the bigger, scarier stuff, but his main advice…

Get help or move far, far away from Silicon Valley. You cannot and should not do this alone. You need help!

Moving far, far away from Silicon Valley isn’t in the cards for us. At least, not today.

However, as soon as I find the right non-smoking, non-animal-sacrificing person to trust with the well-being of my children,  I will be that rare breed of stay-at-home-mom with a cleaning service and a nanny. Doctor’s orders.

Prepare to hate me, Internet.