I keep a number of post titles in my "Drafts" folder, titles that come to me in odd moments, get scribbled down by me, then sit patiently waiting for me to come back and breathe life into them.

They wait a loooong time.

A while back, like way back when I was just venturing into personal blogging, during the time when I still had a tiny one in diapers, one who still blessed me with a daily break nap, I scribbled one title down and hit SAVE.

My {Lonely} Parallel Universe

I'd had a rough day, I'm sure. Many of my days as a mom at home with young children have been rough, one version or another of give-give-give now-now-now because I am WHINING, no - SCREAMING, no - MELTING DOWN LIKE THE WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST IN A THUNDERSTORM!

I'd written the post title late at night when all was finally quiet. I remember thinking it would be a good reminder of just how blessed I am to write a post about what I thought my life might have been if I had followed The Plan.

The Plan:

->Earn degree in Zoology/Biology

->Go to Medical School

->Become super-whizbangy doctor*

The Plan was pretty hazy, mostly because I wasn't too far along in my TypeA venture when I met Knute. His awesomeness** and love pretty much threw a big fat monkey wrench in The Plan; in my junior year at UM, I changed my major back to my more wordy academic leanings (I actually was initially accepted into the Journalism program at UM when I applied). Knute and I were married just after graduation.

Some people reading this might think I chicken-pooped out of The Plan; don't worry, you're not alone in that opinion. Changing my major then stepping up to the alter straight out of college and marrying one of those Midshipmen elicited all sorts of responses from people I knew. Some were genuinely happy for me; some were...well, opinionated.

To which I say: 14 years, peeps, and he still makes my toes curl.

Still, The Plan and it's simplicity had a way of casting a spell over me during some of the hardest times of early motherhood, times when I felt like all that made me me had been cashed in for good, sacrificed in the name of Almighty Motherhood. Notice that nowhere in The Plan were thoughts of marriage and children. Nope, there was no room for domesticity and family in The Plan; I'd be too busy donning germ warfare suits and wrangling Ebola for a proper homelife.

In a parallel universe, my life in The Plan would be financially rewarding, culturally idolized, and filled with the click-clack of designer heels.

It would also be bereft of love, an utterly lonely existence.

During the wee hours of the night, rocking a screaming infant, even my sleep-deprived and hormonally-addled brain could recognize that simple fact as the real truth of The Plan.

The Plan doesn't pop up in my imagination much anymore; I'm well past the screaming-colicky-holy-terror-will-this-kid-EVER-sleep baby years. Lately I've been cruising down the Mommy Highway with just a glimpse of the Diaper Days in my rearview mirror. While some things are getting exponentially easier in my life as Mom, new issues that are far more complex and challenging are popping up to remind me that my job is far from done. I'm still more exhausted than rested most of the time.

Still, I'm glad The Plan failed; I'm glad I let love win instead.

The chaos that is my life in this crazy universe is far better than anything I could have achieved alone.

*And my whizbangy doctor brilliance would in no way have precluded having great hair and makeup every day and not just for Sunday Mass.

**This is totally a real word. I have a fancy degree in English and I therefore deem it so.