I wrote this poem in my early teens, and even though I can read it now and know I’m a silly goose, I still try to save the world all by myself.

Knowing something had to change in our family, I set out to “fix things” by sheer force of will and stubborn energy.

I need to make money from home so my husband can work less, I thought. More money will solve these problems.

Okay, I admit. My thoughts did not clearly state, “More money is the answer.” I would have seen that falsehood a mile away, but “more money needed” became the chant of my heart.

I decided to jump on the blogging wagon.

Only I didn’t just jump on. I told the horses to take a break and started pulling the wagon myself.

I blogged every day. I wrote about everything from the battle against clutter to stories about my kids to random links I found on Twitter. I filled my blog with content while shoving adsense ads and affiliate links wherever they would fit. I blogged all day and late into the night. I learned how to order pizza online because the kitchen was too messy to cook in, and I couldn’t load the kids up for the drive through since my dear husband had our only vehicle with him at work. Besides, I never got around to meal planning or found the time for shopping. How about cereal for dinner?*

Even worse, when my man would mention he would really like me to go to bed when he did instead of staying up so late, I would gripe that I was working so hard for him, and I wish he would believe in me.

I’ve never been a perfect wife and mother, but this frenzied, “I’m going to fix everything myself!” version of me was not an improvement.

*Disclaimer: I fully understand that there will be days and weeks in life that cooking dinner just doesn’t happen, but I do not believe it should be a way of life.