One of the things in life I savor is a well-written sentence. I’ve copied a few for you to enjoy below. It’s by Mel from a post titled, This is your life.

While I don’t share her disappointment, I do share Mel’s sentiment that things aren’t how I’d thought they’d be. For instance, when I was sixteen and dreaming of girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, I never imagined that getting them all dressed and out the door with the appropriate number of sippy cups, special blankies, and diaper bags would be an exercise in logistics and strategic planning. I thought we’d just, you know…. leave. Now that I’m a real mother (as opposed to the one in my dreams), my girls’ dresses are wash-and-wear and have colorful patterns to hide stains.

I remember winking at the thought of babies waking in the middle of the night. I remember feeling sure that my child would never do that. And I remember thinking that I’d always be me, which of course, I am and am not.

I’m not the mother I expected to be. That mother was perky and cute and patient under all circumstances. That mother had children who listened quietly and obeyed promptly. That mother taught her children to play the piano and read long stories before bed to children who smelled of Ivory soap and homemade sugar cookies. That mother had a circle of friends who stopped by with fragrant pumpkin bread and telephoned for no reason at all and got together to make crafts and drink coffee. That mother drank coffee.

I don’t even drink coffee. I’m nothing that I thought I would be.

Which is disappointing in so many ways. I thought my life would be like a poem, words sewed together with precision and care. Instead, it’s like a Scrabble board, words awkwardly shoved together just because I found a “U” to go with the “Q.” And I have too many vowels and no “R” and my next move depends on the other player.