I mean, I really want to be treated like a fragile, delicate flower. I want to be wooed. I want people to be careful of what they say because they don't want to offend my ears. I want doors to be held for me and all of that.
But then, my son farts and I laugh. Or, my three year old is hear yelling, "Mommy, I'm dooooonnnneeeee!!!!" which is my cue to come clean his bottom since he has not quite mastered that art.
Or better yet, I go outside and begin to clean the land mines my two labs have left all over the yard. Sweat dripping, I begin to get swarmed by what I'm convincing myself were just gnat. God please tell me those were just gnats.
I have to clean splatter off toilets, both from #1s and #2. Much of my life deals with gas and bowels; I'm convinced that's normal with two smalls sons and a husband. I grew up with two older brothers, so I think I'm pretty conditioned to deal with these things. I don't have a weak stomach and to be honest, I'm not sure how any mother does.
Yes, I'd love to be a frilly "lady", but that's not my reality. Deep down, I'm glad it's not. I love to get muddy from working in the yard with my oldest son. I love to sweat. Farts are funny to me. Having booger problems doesn't gross me out; it more so makes me want to fix the problem.
This life isn't glamorous, but it's MY life. And it's beautiful. And I am beyond blessed.