My jaw is locked again, her screams are ringing through my head like the pressure of a sinus infection. They settle into a moan, a forced noise so I don’t forget she’s there. I clutch the oak trim of our counter as I remind myself it’s her choice and I just have to follow through with what I said. Go ahead, be upset, not changing this mama’s mind. 
She calms enough for me to talk to her. But a hug, a kiss, another poor decision later and we are cresting the top of the Ferris Wheel of tantrums once more. Round and round, up and down we go. And I want off the ride.

As with all great battles, we make a peace treaty. I feel certain I am the declared winner, though the true victor is exhaustion. She finally succumbs to her pillow and I melt into every step leading me to the kitchen. I take a deep breath. I need something. Left of the fridge, bottom shelf. There it is, my salvation. Hershey’s dark chocolate Bliss. Oh, it is. I escape, I indulge, I take because I deserve. I’ve just spent the better part of the morning straining, at times unsuccessfully, to stay the adult. What I really should have is a hot fudge sundae so massive in girth that it would only fit in the bowl of our fire pit. But I’m not stocked for this kind of decadence so I do what I can with the candies.

Entitlement, how did I find you?

Really. I am such a political advocate against this kind of thing. I come from hard-work, do-it-right-with-all-you’ve-got parents who taught me never to cut corners. I admire in all three of them a loyalty rarely found anymore. My mom spent over 25 years in one position, my dad has been 35 years at one company, and my stepmom, wait for it…47 years in the same dental office. I believe there is a serious, personal flaw in people who are entitled to everything they want. People, like me.

Yes, I work hard. No I don’t expect everything done for me. But I also want to be thanked for cooking dinner. A standing ovation would be nice after taking care of all three of my kids for the summer. I don’t think a Grande Caramel Mocha is too much for running so many errands. Just a little color for the gray hair I don’t want to admit I have, every two or three months. I need, need a Dr. Pepper on a lonely day, to watch Parenthood every night so I can catch up to season 5, and QUIET. Can I just, get, some quiet?

Granted, none of these things are bad. Balance requires some checked out, veg out, “me” time. But what’s been happening to my heart is ugly. I have become discontent.

Ann Voskamp is teaching me different.

The truth is:

I GET to have three, healthy kids to drive me bonkers. I’ve spent most of my life wanting kids around me and I have not been asked to do without them. 
I GET to stay home to teach my little girl to be respectful even when she’s highly disappointed and angry with her circumstances.
I GET to have a yard that needs mowed.
I GET to have running water, hot or cold or anything in between, so I can wash dishes that served us meals others would call extravagant. Yes, even Ramen. 
I GET to learn the hard, uninspired, meaningful, poetic, regretful, bipolar process of writing that in fact, does touch some of you out there. 

When I know I’m blessed, I become the blessing for someone else. And that’s the place of contentment. 

Thank you. “I say the words slowly, hope they soak into his pores, broken man who yearns to bless, and I am him and he is me and behind the masks we are all the same. All, we only find joy in the blessings that are taken, broken, and given.”                                                             -Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts