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Why Am I Writing This Book Anyways? by J.G. McGlothern April 15, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — heartwriter @ 2:32 am
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I wanted more than anything in my life to be a mother.  When my husband and I had been dating just six months he asked me how ready I was to be his wife — never mind we were driving home from a party and he had had a few beers — yes, calm down, I was the one driving. So I in turn asked him how ready he was to be a dad.  We stayed up all night talking and crying, crying and talking. His dad walked out on his family when my husband was ten. He didn’t want to repeat that act in our marriage.  My parents split when I was nine, I didn’t want to repeat that act.  We dove right through our fears and shared our hopes.  Nearly fifteen years later we have been married for ten years and are raising two young children.  Since children, I have been tempted to walk out like my husband’s dad did.  I have been tempted to split like my parents did. I have wanted to throw in the towel, hop on an eastbound circus train, jump off the bridge, take up drinking, have a fling with the twenty year old barista at my neighborhood coffee shop – all attempts to avoid the sadness, crazy madness I often experience being a stay at home mom.

I am writing this book for my marriage.  I don’t want to walk out when it gets tough and my cup is too empty for me to even figure out how to fill it again.  I am writing this book for my children. I want my daughter to discover how much better she feels when she says her feelings out loud. I want my passionate, big hearted son not to be afraid of his anger.  I want to be a role model for my children and lead them to growth, not destruction.  I want to leave the room calmly when I have had it, instead of storming out.  I want to take deep breaths when I want to toss my son out the window.  I want to smile softly and say, “I need a break, so give me a few minutes” — instead of screaming and telling my children to shut the —k up. I want to be real, but more gentle, honest but more peaceful.

 

 

 

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